


these mauve colours

by Willshebemina



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: "my friend" is italian for let's bang, Consent is Sexy, Flowers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Russian translation available!, Sharing a Bed, courting, ezio is even worse, ezio terrorises an old lady but it's fine, leo u sap, shit i mean hang haha autocorrect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-11 15:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10468218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willshebemina/pseuds/Willshebemina
Summary: Ezio has a long overdue realisation about his feelings for Leonardo and, since he's a man of action, decides to act.Alternatively: how many flower until date





	1. maybe periwinks can be our always

**Author's Note:**

> in hindsight, i really should've used this plot for a modern!AU buuut by then i had already written 6k words and i'm lazy so here we are
> 
> also this is probably really badly written.... i have a mindset called I Never Read Through My Shit Cos Then I Automatically Hate It so i practically published this w my eyes closed
> 
> EDIT: this fic is being translated into Russian! :D  
> You can find the translation [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5510078/14178846)

 

Falling in love with Leonardo wasn't a choice, not one Ezio recognised anyway. He had made many difficult choices in his life, but if loving Leonardo was a choice then it was likely the easiest one he had ever made.

  
It wasn't a crash, when he realised. It wasn't as if he'd discovered some new change in himself or Leonardo that suddenly turned the world on its head and changed the way he perceived everything. It certainly wasn't love at first sight. Ezio had believed in his teens that his love for Cristina had been that, but now he knew that _love,_ real love didn't begin that way. Love was something that grew over time.

It was a calm thing, like an acknowledgement of something that had simply been there all along. Leonardo had been dear to him from the start, he was the only friend Ezio could always count on, could always trust. The calm moments in between his missions when he visited the artist's studio with a codex page or simply to pause and breathe were ports in the storm for the ever so busy assassin.  
So it made sense that it was during one of these treasured moments in the studio that he realised it.

  
It was in Venezia during spring, as it happens. The sun had finally begun to smile again, casting rays of light that thawed the lingering chill. The window to the studio was open, letting the outside air circulate the stale smell of dyes and various other chemicals in the studio. Whether or not the stench of the canals were of any actual help to clear the air, the assassin didn't ponder. Ezio had his hood lowered and stood by the window, leaning out over the sill, eyes closed to take in sun. Leonardo was standing as well. He was working on one of his commissions, a portrait of some merchant's much younger wife. The woman's likeness was complete, but the _idiota_ had requested her face to be entirely framed by flowers. "Periwinkles" of all things. Ezio had not bothered to ask why, since Leonardo likely hadn't bothered to either, although the merchant had stressed their importance.

  
A muffled curse from the painter drew Ezio's attention away from the window. He leaned back inside and turned to face Leonardo.  
"Is the lady troubling you, my friend?" He asked, a lopsided smile tugging at his scarred lips.  
Leonardo let out an aggrieved sigh.

  
"No, though the same cannot be said for the flowers," he frowned. He was peering at a fixed spot on the canvas, gaze so focused he might burn a hole through it if he continued for much longer. With an amused sway in his steps, Ezio went over to stand beside his friend and peer at the offending spot.

  
The woman was pretty in a plain way, the assassin supposed. Not a great beauty but moderately attractive, with hair like chestnuts and a defined nose. But it was not the madonna that held Leonardo's attention, no, it seemed that a tiny purple flower on the right side of her head was the culprit. Leonardo had already drawn many of them, the flowers covered the bottom of the painting and had now begun to take form on the portrait’s right. But it seemed like Leonardo was glaring at one in particular.

"What's wrong with the flowers?" Ezio said curiously. "They look fine to me".  
His friend let out a short, low laugh, more of a breath than anything.

"Thank you, Ezio, but you'll forgive me if I'm not too reassured," he said, not unkindly.  
Ezio crossed his arms.

"What bothers you?" he insisted.  Leonardo scrunched his nose up with a slight frown and held a finger under his chin.

"I am trying to go faster, but I cannot rush my work and still produce the same quality, as you can see with this flower. It's sloppy, and I am never sloppy, not if I can help it. I hate this flower because it's inadequate, which in turn makes me feel as such." Leonardo spoke quickly, the words almost tumbling out of his mouth at once, like they were eager to flee.

"Why are you rushing, my friend?" Ezio wondered.

  
"This commission is far overdue and I don't want it to be any later than it already is," Leonardo responded, worrying his lip. A strand of hair fell loose from behind his ear and he brushed it back quickly with the same hand in which he held the brush, resulting in a blue-violet smudge of paint on his cheek. He didn't seem to notice.  
Ezio grinned at him.

  
"I'm surprised anyone even bothers commissioning you anymore, with how rarely you finish them," he teased lightly. Leonardo laughed then, light, genuine. It was a short thing, but it bubbled out of him unrestricted and rang clear like bells between the walls of the studio. It was not long, it couldn't have been longer than a second, two, three at most. But in that moment it all slowed down and Leonardo seemed to have absorbed all the light in the room, like everything gave way so that he could stand out more.

He was the centre of the room, glowing bright like the spring sun. A familiar yet beloved warmth bloomed in Ezio's chest. It spread out from his heart and down his limbs so that his entire body was encased in it. It tickled but not unpleasantly, it ached, _ached_ on the left side of his chest, but he welcomed it. Then there was the strain of want, need that tugged on his senses. Inexplicable but reliable in that it felt like it was always there. He pined for something else, more, but the joy overshadowed it all.

Only Leonardo could be the cause of such joy in Ezio, even just from laughing at something that could barely be considered a joke. Ezio's pleased smile was so broad it hurt his cheeks. It felt good, wonderful, to know that he was one of few (or maybe the only one) who could change Leonardo like that, bringing him out of his greyer mood.  
Ezio was so proud to know that Leonardo only shared these private pieces of himself with him.

It was then that it happened. When Leonardo turned his head to look at Ezio fully, with that smile that was reserved only for him. His light hair shone, his freckles that dotted his cheeks expertly framed that _smile_. His eyes held suck spark that Ezio could not properly describe them. Leonardo was beautiful.

It wasn't quite a blow to the gut, but more like a slap to the back of his head, like when he was younger and his mother thought he was being obtuse, or those that Frederico had administered his whole life to tease him.

 _”You fool,”_ it said. _”It's been clear for so long.”_

He loved Leonardo. He'd known that, of course he'd known. Ezio was a loving person by nature and Leonardo was his dearest friend but,

He was _in love_ with Leonardo.  
And he couldn't exactly pinpoint an exact time when it had happened or an exact event. All he knew was that it had been a long time coming. It had been built on, step by step, ever since Leonardo had taken him in and helped him - someone he barely knew - after the death of his father and brothers. It was the result of many events over the course of multiple years, put together and polished, and here it was. Laid out before him in its entirety, blossomed like that _stupid_ periwinkle. And it wasn't even that much of a change. His only real thoughts were, _"I’ve been blind”_ and _“What do I do now?"_

"They still bother with me because they know it's worth the wait," Leonardo said, unaware of the boggling conclusion Ezio had just arrived at. That smaller realisation affected the assassin more than the first one did. Because Leonardo didn't know!

Ezio had to tell him- no, show him! After all Leonardo had done, with how much he meant to him, the least he deserved was for Ezio to do it properly. He could blurt it out right then and there if he so wished but decided against it. It wouldn't be fair to Leonardo. It would be kinder if Ezio put effort into it, so that the genius artist could pick the pieces together one by one. If Ezio threw all his feelings at him at once it could scare him off or put pressure on him to reciprocate and Ezio couldn't bear that.

No, he had to do it right.

 

Ezio swallowed and responded to Leonardo’s smile with one of his own.

“I suppose that's true,” he admitted. “You _are_ the best artist in all of Italia.” And before Leonardo could protest that notion, he added “Would you ever consider drawing me?”

He wasn't sure whether or not he hoped Leonardo caught on to the naked affection that laid nested in his words, that he didn't put too much thought into how Ezio had stepped closer as he asked. That he didn't consider the way Ezio ever so slightly leaned in to the edge of Leonardo’s personal space, or how Ezio’s gaze kept flickering to his lips.

Leonardo made what could almost be called a pout.

“Don’t tempt me, Ezio. I really _do_ have to finish this,” he insisted. “I won't get paid, otherwise.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

_“Ezio.”_

The assassin put his hands up.

“Apologies, my friend,” he said, then gestured to the portrait. “I shouldn’t distract you from your flowers.”

The painter sighed, but he wasn’t annoyed. Instead a fond look played on his face and Ezio found once more that his heart was pained by the sight. _Truly blind_.

“It’s alright Ezio, I welcome your distractions,” Leonardo assured him. Ezio turned to walk over to the open window.

“Nevertheless, I just remembered something I have to do,” the assassin said. Leonardo seemed to deflate at that.

“Oh.”

“I won’t be long, my friend,” Ezio said. “I promise.”

“Try not to get into trouble, Ezio” Leonardo responded. Ezio laughed.

“That, I cannot promise.”

And with those parting words, he climbed the window sill and jumped onto the roof.

 

* * *

 

 

Ezio couldn’t clearly remember ever buying flowers before, let alone _finding_ them. He could recognise some medicinal plants and spot some of the flowers his mother had sometimes put in vases in their home, but he didn't think he could name any of them.

So he jumped from roof to roof, scouring Venezia for his target. At long last, he found what looked like periweeds  ( _Periwinks? Periwinks_.) when he jumped between two houses on different sides of a smaller canal. The distance between the two buildings was large enough that Ezio couldn’t jump to or even land to grip the tiles. Instead he jumped and gripped the lower edge of a balcony. The sudden brunt of his weight made the wood creak, but it held. He pulled himself up, grunting with exertion.

Then he froze because planted in the flowerbeds along the bannister, was a cluster of small, purple-bluish flowers. Still hanging in midair, arms and hands smarting, Ezio grinned. He pulled himself up to land on the balcony properly. Most people decorated their balconies with flowers, but whoever cared for this one must have a lot of free time on their hands. He was surprised he’d even managed to grab onto the balcony without tearing down anything. The flowers were a myriad of colours, a multitude of species from all over Italia, if not Europa. Flowerbeds went all the way around the bannister of the balcony and the roof over it. From the ceiling also hanged flowers in pots, many with vines like threads that dangled over the edges, buds and leaves growing along it, suspended in the air. The air itself was filled with the clashing smell of many individual scents blended together, stronger than but not as cloying as any perfume Ezio had smelt before. This balcony was almost a world of its own.

He shook his head to loosen his wonder and focused on the periwinks.

He gently pinched one of the blooms between his thumb and forefinger, brushing against the soft underside of the pale but striking petals.

The creaking sound of a door opening caused his attention to shift and he quickly ripped off the blossom and turned around. On the threshold stood an older lady, with hair a stark silver and creases around her eyes and mouth. Her back was not crooked, but still she was easily a head shorter. She looked respectable, her hair carefully done, though her dress was plain.

Her reaction at finding a stranger in her haven was only to furrow her brows and squint at him. The silence stretched uncomfortably long as the two sized the other up. The lady looked him up and down and Ezio found himself uncharacteristically nervous.

“Buona giornata, signora,” Ezio said at last. The lady crossed her arms. Ezio swallowed hard.

“You’re that stolto that’s always running on rooftops and making trouble,” she surmised. Ezio made a strained chuckle.

“Yes.”

Her gaze went down to his hand, the one that still gripped the small flower.

“And you’re stealing from my balcony because…?”

She had that look in her eye that most women her age did. The look that said _you cannot fool me_ because they'd heard it all before. There was no use lying to her, he realised, because there was no way that she would let him get away with it.

He was intimately familiar with it, as his mother had a tendency for the art herself. He was sure that she would only have grown sharper with the years if not for-

In any case, there was no point in trying to deceive this tiny woman.

“I was looking for some flowers to gift to my friend,” he said. The old lady gave him a knowing look.

“You might try for some white periwinkles, then,” she offered. “Each colour has a different meaning, the one you’ve crushed beyond hope there means _purity_ and excuse me for assuming, young man, but you don’t seem the type. Or you might be better off with some carnations if you want to be clear, seeing as they symbolize love and marriage. Better for getting your message across.”

Ezio blinked.

“What?”

She sighed.

“I am a florist, I’ve helped with my fair share of courtships in my day,” she explained. “Now, do you want some carnations or are you determined to go with the periwinkles?”

Ezio’s mind still had trouble catching up.

“It’s- I’m not- we’re not courting yet,” he stammered, then winced at his own clumsy words.

“In that case I really advise you to go with carnations. Make it clear,” she said. Ezio looked at his feet and scratched his neck.

“It has to be periwinks,” he said lamely. The old woman hm-ed.

“Ebbene, wait here,” she said and quickly went inside. Only moments later she returned with a small pair of sheers and some string. She held them out to him and the assassin took them by reflex. She rolled up the sleeves of her dress and gently drew her fingers through the bundle of flowers. She gripped the stem of a bloom as lightly as if it was a feather.

“Cut them where I show you,” she instructed him. Ezio leaned forward to cut the stem. She gripped another and said “again”.

This continued until the woman held a small bouquet of the blossoms and informed Ezio that it would suffice. The took the string and bound the stems together with swift, practised movements. She handed the bouquet to Ezio brusquely.

“Don’t fall in the canal, stolto” she told him. “They need to sit in water, not drown in it.”

Ezio made a graceful bow. “Grazie, madonna.” He only registered her eye roll before he leapt off the balcony and headed in the direction of the studio.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was still high in the sky when Ezio swung in through the studio’s open window and exclaimed “ _Leonardo!_ ” in lieu of greeting. The assassin was panting from exertion from legging it the whole way back, but the heat in his face was also from the euphoric feeling of triumph; the bouquet had miraculously managed to stay whole and was not too battered. One of the stems had been bent and the periwink drooped sadly, but Ezio still counted it as a success. Scaling buildings when only using one arm turned out to be more difficult than he had imagined.

Leonardo seemed to have finally abandoned his painting for his cluttered desk. He was sitting holding a pen with his notebook and various sheets of paper in front of him, suggesting he’d gone back to working on his inventions. His eyes immediately flew met Ezio’s after the assassin’s call and he smiled wide.

“Ezio! Back so soon?” he greeted. A drop of ink fell from the tip of his pen and landed on the paper under it, making a splotch that couldn’t be removed. Leonardo didn’t notice. His focus had completely shifted to his friend. He still had the speck of paint on his cheek from earlier, Ezio noted.  

“I told you I wouldn’t be long,” Ezio responded as he walked up to stand by Leonardo’s desk. Once he stood close enough, he reached the bouquet out to Leonardo. Leonardo’s brows climbed higher on his forehead and his eyes widened. He took the flowers and graced the petals with light fingers.

“Are these-?” he looked from the flowers to Ezio in disbelief. The assassin shrugged.

“I know you have a better memory than most, my friend, but I thought you could use the real thing.”

Leonardo laughed, still in disbelief even as the evidence was before him. “I should learn not to be surprised anymore by anything you do, Ezio.” He shook his head. “Where did you even _find_ these?” he wondered.

“It wasn’t so much trouble,” he lied, recalling the many times he’d almost fallen on the way back. “Do you have something to put them in?” he asked. “They need water or they won’t last long.”

Leonardo made an _ah-_ noise.

“I should have a glass somewhere. Wait here, I’ll go look.”

 

* * *

 

Leonardo didn’t know what to think.

Usually his head was too full for him to pick a clear trail to follow, but now the silence, confusion, rang clear. Ezio was the only one who had such a strong effect on him, he knew. Leonardo hadn’t been drawn to him from the start, this animatic man who wore his heart on his sleeve. Who always cared for other more than himself. He hadn’t, couldn’t have known what would happen later on when he’d first met Ezio, too busy as he was to speak to Maria. Maria who was one of few that knew him before he’d properly made a name for himself, that could put up with his ramblings and half finished thoughts and ideas that he never learned to contain within himself.

So when Ezio went to him for help after that _infernale_ tragedy occurred, it wasn’t a choice. He could never have turned him away. That was when the connection between them made itself known, when the lines were drawn. Leonardo was young and he was a stranger to the stronger kind of love, as most he’d ever known were the simple crushes from when he was younger still. Yet he knew love well enough to recognise the signs. His racing heart, the knot in his stomach, the ache in his chest. He knew what it meant just as he knew that it was impossible to stop. Resisting would only delay the inevitable, and so Leonardo opened his heart. Most of the relationships he’d dared to pursue were simple trysts, so what he wanted with Ezio was uncharted territory.

Yet he couldn’t find the courage to cross the border into this new world. He skirted the edge, never daring to take the first step.

Leonardo didn’t know what to think, because now it seemed, that after the years he’d known yet not had the courage to act, Ezio seemed to have taken the first step. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he still felt it. He’d seen Ezio when he was determined before, as he’d said, the man wore his heart on his sleeve. Whenever he had a mission on his mind, it showed on his body. His focus was frighteningly intense when he honed in on something and Leonardo had found himself both scared by and admiring it many times.

But now Ezio looked to have turned that focus on Leonardo, and Leonardo didn't know what to _think_ much less _do._

And so he went downstairs and found a glass - that wasn't too dusty or used to contain some pencils or other - and gently set the periwinkles in it. Then he slowly poured water until it filled about half of it and took a closer look on his improvised vase and its contents. Their shade was the exact mauve paint he’d spent such a long time making. Leonardo knew he’d been  exaggerating when he told Ezio of his woes about the portrait and he knew it had more to do with his frustration at only ever being considered a low ranking artist. He’d much rather be recognised for his inventions, his science, but instead he was stuck doing portrait after portrait.

He didn’t _need_ the flowers and Ezio knew that. It was a lighthearted joke on his part, but it was also a kind gesture, one that tugged on his heartstrings and brought a tender smile to his face when he drew his fingers over the bouquet. He smiled even brighter when he held up a periwinkle with a broken stem, just because it was so Ezio.

They could just be flowers with no particular meaning attached to them - or it could be a sign that Leonardo’s hopes weren’t so hopeless. He couldn’t be sure.

It was a slim hope, but Leonardo wound it tight around his heart.

With his thoughts more gathered, Leonardo took the impromptu vase and returned to Ezio.


	2. romance in the rain without the romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the sky is a cock-block

It was a few days later when Ezio had enough free time to go visit Leonardo again, another codex page in hand. The mere thought of seeing Leonardo again after last time made his face warm, the memory of the way the painter had looked at him when he held that bouquet was fresh in his mind, as clear as one of Leonardo’s paintings. He wanted desperately to make it happen again.

 

Ezio was afraid of what loving Leonardo meant, of course. Life had taken most of his family away from him and along with it, the chance of ever leading a normal life. Marrying, having children, settling down. He was afraid that Leonardo would suffer for his sins on his behalf, he never stopped fearing for his friend’s safety when he had to leave, but being romantically involved with the man wouldn’t erase those problems. But he also knew that they’d barely add to them. He just needed to continue what he’d already been doing: protect Leonardo.

 

Ezio never stopped being afraid but reason told him that his life could only improve with Leonardo’s love in it.

That's why he decided to try another dumb plan, and why he was currently  headed for a very familiar balcony.

 

Unlike the last time, the old woman was already outside, watering one of the plants that was suspended in a pot hanging from the ceiling. The noise created by his quick steps on the tiles of the building opposite made sure that she looked away from the plant just in time to see a white-clad madman fall right into her bannister.

 

 _“Dio dannato!”_ she swore and dropped her ewer. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added “stolto!”

 

Ezio grinned pleasantly.

 

“Buongiorno, signora!” He greeted. “May I speak with you?”

 

The woman closed her eyes and made an aggravated sigh.

 

“Fine, climb up before you fall,” she said and moved to make space for Ezio to climb over, which he immediately did.

 

“Grazie mille,” he thanked her.

 

“What do you want?” Straight to the point.

 

“Last time I was here you spoke of some special… courting flower,” he began. She raised an eyebrow.

 

“Carnations?” she guessed. Ezio nodded.

 

“Yes, those. I wondered if you might be so kind as to lend me some? I can compensate you, I promise,” he ensured her. The old lady huffed.

 

“No need, seeing you leave will be payment enough-” Ezio didn't feel as insulted as he probably should have, “-but you'll do it yourself this time, I trust you remember how. I'll go get the shears and thread.”

 

She returned just as swiftly as she had the last time.

 

“Here, these are carnations,” she pointed to an assembly of flowers, all of the same shape but in a multitude of colours. “You'll want the dark red ones. Don't take too many.”

 

She watched him like a hawk while he cut the stems, making disapproving noises when she thought he did something wrong. But it was quick work and he soon had seven dark red blossoms which he tied together neatly.

 

“Not too shabby,” she told him, which he believed might be high praise.

 

“I am in your debt, madonna,” Ezio said. She waved him off.

 

“Just go.”

 

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

 

* * *

 

 Today wasn’t as sunny as the days past. The morning had seemed to promise mild weather, but not soon after he left the signora’s balcony he felt droplets of rain hit his hood. Ezio paid no mind to it then, a light drizzle now and then is not uncommon so close to the sea.

 

However, he definitely paid a mind to it when the sky opened and drenched him completely. He was wet and cold to the bone within minutes and his teeth chattered. The season was headed for spring, yes, but spring was yet to take over, so the air was not warm enough without the sun to save Ezio from the cold rain.

 

He couldn't remember _how_ he managed to make it to Leonardo’s studio. All he knew was that one minute he was opening and rolling in through the window reserved for him, the next a pair of _very_ warm and familiar hands rolled him over onto his back.

 

“Oh, dio mio,” a voice likely belonging to the hands mumbled worriedly.

 

“Ezio? Are you awake?”

 

It was _Leonardo_. Ezio suddenly thrust his left arm up in the air.

Leonardo was understandably very confused.

 

“What?”

 

Ezio tried to clear his throat.

 

“Flowers,” he croaked, the word barely audible. He couldn't remember their name. He coughed again and this time his voice was clearer.

“I brought you some flowers.”

 

Leonardo looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Ezio dropped his arm back down with a thump.

 

“And a codex page,” he added. Leonardo kept staring at him. Ezio coughed again. That seemed to wake Leonardo from whatever trance he was under.

 

“Get up, Ezio. We have to get you warmed up,” he instructed, pulling at his friend to sit up. Ezio groaned but complied.

 

“Why?” He whined, despite following Leonardo’s silent cues to get up and put a heavy arm around his friend’s shoulder.

 

The many layers that covered his body dripped a steady stream of water on the wooden floor and his arm made a pathetic squelch sound when it collapsed against Leonardo.

 

“I am trying to stop you from getting sick,” Leonardo explained. He began to walk towards the stair with gingerly steps, Ezio following slowly. “How long did you lay there?” The painter asked him.

 

“I don't know,” he admitted.

 

“It's probably too late to stop you from getting sick at all,” Leonardo informed him, “but we shall try. My fireplace should help you get dry quicker, so you won't catch anything too serious, such as pneumonia. This won't kill you.”

 

Ezio made a wheezing noise that was supposed to be a laugh.

 

“Nothing can kill me,” he claimed.

 

“Except your stubbornness,” Leonardo added drily.

 

Getting down the stairs was tricky and they nearly slipped more than once due to the water that continued to drop off of Ezio, but they made it to their destination. Leonardo helped the assassin sit down on the floor by the fire. Ezio sniffled and curled up, like he was trying to crawl inside himself. Leonardo put a hand on his shoulder and the other man looked up, blinking far too many times.

 

“Take those clothes off and lay them by the hearth, I'll go and get you some spare clothes,” Leonardo told him.

 

Ezio both coughed and sniffled again before nodding.

Leonardo rose.

 

“Oh,” he remembered. “Try not to fall asleep before I return, my friend. I’ll likely need your cooperation to get you dressed.”

 

Ezio nodded once more, his face as serious as if he had just accepted some grave mission. Satisfied, Leonardo went to go upstairs. Only once Leonardo had gone did Ezio notice that he still held the very much ruined carnations clutched in his hand. He regretfully laid them to the side before he dutifully began to remove his many, _many_ weapons before he could  start to take off his armour.

 

He sighed when he had removed it all, relieved by how much lighter he felt. He was so used to always wearing it that without its burden he felt like he could float. After that he made quick work of removing the wet, sticky garments that clung to his skin and hung it by the hearth, with the exception of his underwear.

Then, he sat back and promptly fell asleep on the spot.

 

* * *

 

 Leonardo came back downstairs carrying a pair of trousers, a loose-fitting shirt (as he doubted that Ezio could fit into Leonardo’s tighter ones, considering the breadth of his shoulders) and a blanket.

 

He was greeted by the sight of a near-naked Ezio laying on his side like a babe in front of the fireplace, fast asleep.

 

Leonardo shook his head, but he couldn't help the smile that crept over his face. He set the clothes on a nearby table and went to drape the blanket over Ezio. Ezio was shaking slightly, despite the heat of the fire so close to him. Leonardo laid the fabric over him and the assassin’s relief was immediate. Ezio clutched at the blanket in his sleep, curling up on himself even more, but he stopped trembling and the line of his brow eased.

 

The assassin looked so different like this, unguarded, peaceful. It was so rare for the younger man to relax, to give himself a chance to rest, that Leonardo felt privileged that Ezio trusted him enough to allow himself to be vulnerable. Few were ever so lucky.

 

Leonardo doubted that he would wake up anytime soon, so the floor wasn't the best choice for Ezio to get the rest he so clearly needed, but he was too heavy for Leonardo to carry him to his bed. The inventor had had a hard enough time getting Ezio down from the upper floor and he’d had help from the other man himself then.

 

So, he would just have to bring the bed to him.

 

He brought all of the pillows he could find, along with every spare blanket and sheet, and piled them on the floor next to Ezio. Careful not to wake him, Leonardo created a makeshift bed for Ezio. He couldn't move the man fully, but he was able to put a cushion under his head and slide a blanket under his legs. The rest he let stay beside Ezio in case the assassin moved and rolled over in his slumber.

 

Satisfied, Leonardo went up to try and get some work done. However, he immediately stopped in his tracks when he caught something he'd missed in the corner of his eye.

 

There, only a small space away from Ezio's hand, laid the carnations. He had completely forgotten about them. He walked around Ezio's makeshift bedding to choicely take the flowers in hand. There were seven of them in total, all fully in bloom and carefully tended to. He imagined that they would have been beautiful if they had not fallen victim to the rain’s merciless onslaught and contusions from Ezio gripping them so roughly.

 

The stems were bent in many places and completely crushed in others and the petals were just as damaged. Still, he picked them up gingerly, keeping his fingers light as to not bring them any more harm.  

 

He went upstairs to find the heaviest book he owned and laid both it and the carnations on his desk before opening the book to its last pages. Then he took the flowers and placed them there with care, after which he closed the book to press them between its pages.

 

With no more excuses to dally, Leonardo picked up his pen and went to work, though not before shooting the book one last glance, thinking of the man downstairs. He smiled.

 

* * *

 

Ezio blinked sluggishly back to awareness.

 

He was tangled up in an assortment of cushions and textiles and along with the still glowing embers near him the heat was stifling, yet he was oddly comfortable. When his mind was awake enough to register his surroundings he shot up in panic at not knowing where he was. His heart hammered at a rabbit’s pace within his chest in fear. Then he managed to take in the room fully and he fell down with a loud, relieved sigh.

 

His head made a muted _thump_ noise as it collided with a pillow. He brought both of his hands up to his face and rubbed the heels of his palms into his sockets. A low groan ripped itself from his throat, loud in the otherwise quiet room.

 

Ezio wasn't one for denial, but he'd be happy to forget how he'd utterly _failed_ with his task: bring Leonardo flowers and tell the man of his feelings. But rain, it seemed, hated romance. And happiness, especially Ezio's.

 

_Cazzo di merda._

 

It was a miracle that he felt as well as he did, not counting the humiliation of being one-upped by nature.

Ezio turned on his side and burrowed deeper among the cushions and blankets.

Or maybe not a miracle, but a far too kind man.

 

After gathering his bearings, Ezio managed to get up and see if his assassin regalia had dried yet. He was unlucky enough to find that they were still slightly damp and even madid where the fabric was the heaviest. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours then.

 

His linen shirt had dried and his trousers were fine though, so he put them on swiftly. He felt nude without his usual layers and gear, but strangely at ease as well. He dragged his fingers across his belt forlornly, which was when he noticed that he'd completely forgotten about the codex page he'd clasped to it. It had fortunately stayed whole through the ordeal and the parchment was dry as bone now. Grinning and with newfound purpose in hand, he made his way upstairs.

 

Leonardo was sitting by his desk, as usual. But what differed this time from the others was that his friend had laid his head to rest on his arms and had fallen asleep. His hat had fallen fallen off his head and tresses of his hair fell across his face, blowing lightly as he breathed. Ezio put the codex page down and went to shake his friend’s shoulder.

 

“Leonardo?” he tried when the man didn't stir. The man made a soft, confused noise.

 

“Leonardo?” he tried again. This time the man opened his eyes and blinked against the cloudiness of sleep that surely lingered. Then he registered what had awakened him and a slow smile spread across his face as he sat up straighter.

 

“Buongiorno, my friend,” he said, with less of his usual vigour but with no less warmth. Then he looked pensive. “Or is it buon pomeriggio?”

 

Ezio chuckled. “Almost, it's night.”

 

Leonardo let out a short, quiet laugh and rubbed his eyes.

“Truly? I feel like I've slept for ages,” he said. Then he peered curiously at Ezio. “If it’s night, why did you wake me?”

 

Ezio blinked. That… was a good question.

 

“I thought it a shame that once you finally got some rest, it was when I'd stolen your bed from you,” he settled for. It wasn't a lie. Leonardo regarded him with a soft expression.

 

“You needed it more than I did, my friend,” he said. Ezio shook his head.

 

“No, you've already aided me so many times, I refuse to let you see to my needs over yours,” Ezio said firmly.

 

“Ezio, you know I could never let you fall ill while in my care,” Leonardo argued. Ezio knew it was true, but he still felt a sting of frustration flare up.

 

“I'll tell you what,” Ezio began, an idea forming in his head, “come downstairs and join me.”

 

Leonardo blinked. “Che cosa?”

 

“With the bedding on the floor, there is more than enough space for the two of us,” Ezio explained. “It's a compromise.”

 

“You do not have to-”

 

“I won't take no for an answer, my friend.”

 

Leonardo laughed incredulously, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand.

  
“Always so surprising,” he said, more to himself than Ezio, who stood still, waiting. Leonardo chose to forgo a verbal reply, opting to stand up and follow Ezio down.


	3. Please leave the old lady alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took a while for this chapter to happen but i honestly forgot that this fic existed for a while

They'd fallen asleep back to back, but once Ezio opened his eyes he found himself face to face with the still sleeping artist. Daylight seeped in through the open window to land on the both of them. The sun made Leonardo’s hair look like a glowing halo, painting a perfect picture of serenity.

The man breathed softly but laid otherwise still, safe and undisturbed. Warmth blossomed in Ezio’s chest, spreading upwards to curl his lips into a smile.

He wanted to wake up like this everyday, he thought. To wake up knowing that Leonardo was there next to him, to know that the man safe, to know that Ezio himself had something (someone) to come back to. It was as if the world didn't exist outside the two of them, like time stood still and had frozen them in this moment forever.

But like most things, it didn't last. Slowly, the world outside made itself known. The sounds of a busy morning in Venice was mutely heard through the walls; splashes from the canal, shrieks of gulls and shouts from people aggrieved, searching, pleased.

The world outside would not stop turning for either of them. Ezio looked closely at Leonardo’s sleeping face. He was not an artist like Leonardo was, but nevertheless he tried to paint a picture of the sight in his mind, to keep the moment with him even when he got up to leave.

But lady fortuna would not force him to leave Leonardo today. Right after Ezio had sat up, Leonardo moved. Ezio suddenly forgot how to breathe. Then Leonardo sluggishly began to blink, before yawning. He turned over to fully lay on his back before his eyes found Ezio.

“Is it buongiorno this time?” Leonardo quipped, voice rough from just waking.

Ezio remembered how to breathe.  
“It is,” he replied.

Leonardo grinned then, letting a flicker of teeth show.  
“Buongiorno, my friend.”

This is a dream, thought Ezio. I'm still asleep. Any minute now I'll wake and a minute after that I won't remember this.

“Buongiorno to you as well.”

Ezio got himself free of the tangled blankets around his legs before standing up. The fire was almost dead, but the heat lingered. His other clothes had dried enough now, so he began dressing slowly.

“Do you have plans for today?” Ezio wondered. Leonardo hummed, sitting up. He scratched at his chin lightly.

“Nothing in particular, except my usual work,” he said. “Though I do need to find my way to the markets later.”

Ezio tugged at his belt, seeing that it was secure.  
“Are you in need of an escort, signor? I might know someone who could help you with that,” he said, tongue in cheek.

Leonardo snorted.  
“Yes, Ezio, you can come.”

Ezio struggled not to smile like an idiot.

 

* * *

 

 

The wind was bound to be present this near the sea, but today it was unusually silent, as if it senses the mood of the venezians and decided to leave them be. Together with the sun smiling brightly, the day was undeniably warm. But since it was only the beginning of spring, it didn't beat down on them so cruelly.

Ezio was walking at Leonardo’s side, listening to his friend tell him about a party some duke had invited him to. Ezio was holding a case of new paints Leonardo had purchased under his arm and a basket with fresh bread in the other, so that the genius himself could use his hands to paint out the image he saw in his mind as he described it (Ezio hadn’t actually told him that, though).

They were in one of the busier markets, passing past stands that sold everything from paint and other tools to cheese and live birds in cages. Ezio had needed to almost wrestle Leonardo to prevent him from setting them all free.

Ezio had just started laughing at one of Leonardo's anecdotes when one of the stands up the pathway froze him in his tracks.

There, behind one of the less busy stands, stood the Signora that had helped him twice before. She was smiling at a young woman with a shy boy behind her, receiving payment for a bouquet of red tulips the young woman held. The Signora bent down to speak to the boy who shyly hid behind his mother. She then bent up and took one more tulip, this one yellow before handing it to the boy. He looked down still, but the young mother nodded and said something to the Signora, maybe thanks. They walked away after, leaving the Signora to her wares.

Leonardo walked a bit further, still talking, before he noticed his friend’s distraction. Then he turned and walked back.

“Ezio?”

Ezio was snapped out of his haze.  
“Scusi Leonardo, I just remembered something. Don't go too far,” he said and then walked off.

“What- Ezio!” But Ezio didn't hear him.

Ezio stalked away, almost running before he came to a halt right in front of the stand.

The Signora turned to him with what could only be her business face; open, warm and receptive, before she registered who he was and she instantly dropped it.

“Buongiorno, signora!” Ezio greeted her brightly. “Might we have a word?” She put her hand up.

“Here's a word: goodbye.”

“Please, it will only take a short moment of your time,” he said. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why are you back so soon?” She asked cooly. “What happened to the carnations?”

Ezio swallowed. “Nothing.”

The lady arched a very unimpressed eyebrow. Ezio’s shoulders slumped.

“The rain ruined them,” he admitted. “But I have money with me, signora. I don't ask for charity.”

“You mistake charity for pity,” the old woman said. “But fine. I'm willing to sell to you, but not carnations. They didn't deserve such a foul ending.”

She gestured to her colourful wares with a graceful sweep of her hand. “Do you have anything in mind?” She wondered.

Ezio raked his eyes over the many different kinds. He recognised a few - carnations, tulips and roses, - but far more were alien to him. They were all beautiful in their own way, but none of them stuck with him.

Then he finally noticed a few large, yellow flowers with long stems. The colour was bright and immediately made his mind jump to thought of joy and sunshine. Just like looking at Leonardo did.

“Those,” he said, nodding to the flowers. Then he quickly added, “please.”

The Signora hummed thoughtfully, though Ezio couldn't figure out what she figured, before before bowing her head.

She reached for them before taking three, then she made a quick work of cutting the stems to equal length and tying them together. She held them out to Ezio who had to shuffle with his basket and transfer it to his other hand to take them.

“They're called sunflowers,” the florist explained. “They symbolise joy and adoration. A good choice, but most definitely an accident on your part.”

“How much?” Ezio wondered.

The old woman smiled, not coldly but not in a warm way either.  
“Sate my curiosity,” she said. “The name of your sweetheart and the flowers are free.”

Ezio’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.

 

* * *

 

Once Ezio finally reunited with Leonardo, the man in question had opened not one, but two cages of pigeons. In fact that's where Ezio found him, opening the door to the second one and almost being knocked over by the swarm he'd unleashed.

“I can't leave you anywhere,” Ezio complained, though it was meant as a tease.

“Ezio!” Leonardo said, not minding that he was just almost knocked out by pigeons or the feathers they had left as souvenirs all over his clothes.  
“Did finish whatever had you leaving in such a hurry?”

Ezio held out the sunflowers, letting them speak for themselves.

“Oh,” for once in his life, it seemed that the great Leonardo da Vinci had nothing to say.

He took the flowers in hand and looked closely at them, like he was figuring out a puzzle.

“Is there anywhere else you want to go or should we head back?” Ezio asked, breaking the silence.

Leonardo locked eyes with him then, smile as bright as the sunflowers in his hands.

“Let's go back, my friend.”

  
The walk back was quiet, both of them lost inside their own heads. Ezio would worry if it hadn't been for the way Leonardo kept stroking the flowers’ petals with a soft look on his face. But he worried anyway. He wasn't used to feeling this insecure. He'd always been good at seduction and charm, but this was different. Only Leonardo could bring out this side of him, this earnestness. The innocence of it was entirely new, Ezio had no motives behind what he was doing except for doing right by his friend.

It was Leonardo who spoke first. They were the only ones walking along the narrow road, alone out in the city for the first time Ezio could remember.

“I know what you're doing, you know,” he said. But it didn't sound like an accusation, more like a fact. An acknowledgement.

“What am I doing then?” Ezio asked.

Leonardo fell silent again.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Leonardo was quick to answer then. “No.”

Ezio held out his free hand. Leonardo didn't do anything at first, but then slowly, he unclasped a hand from the flowers and laid it on top of Ezio’s. Ezio brought them down to their sides, swinging a bit with their steps.

He squeezed it ever so softly, and the other man responded by giving one back.

No words were needed then. They  seemed to know exactly what was on the other’s mind, and they both liked what they saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im making this entire thing on the fly lads


	4. Glad Påsk!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage girls and their magic and also THE MOMENT WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR kind of. A tease of it, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter! If you don't celebrate it, have a great week anyway! You deserve nothing but the best! I love you all!
> 
> Also here is a reminder that I never read through anything before I post it:  
> I suck

Life caught up with Ezio quickly after his last day with Leonardo. Mission after mission, some escalating and dragging on longer than he’d anticipated.He collected bruises and cuts like souvenirs, adding numerous scars to his ever-growing collection. By the time it was all finally over and he could move without biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood because of the pain, a month had passed.

 

So he had a long overdue visit to Monteriggioni that lasted a week, where he was nearly flayed by Claudia for his long absence, and relayed his findings to his uncle. His mother had not changed. Before he knew it, it was mid-May.

 

A month and a half had passed since that sunny day, since he walked side by side with Leonardo like there was no trouble to be found in their world. A world with no risk of him being cut open by faceless men, where he didn't have to kill anyone.

 

It was with a light heart and anticipation Ezio jumped of the boat and climbed the nearest building. His ribs groaned in protest but he ignored it, too caught up with the clear goal in his head. He flew over tiled rooftops and across small canals with quick feet and with glee in his strained chest. Ezio had missed Venezia, had missed the narrow and crowded streets, the bustling people, the scents, the sights.

 

His feet instinctively carried him forward, along a route so well traveled that he didn't even have to think about where he stepped.

 

But along the way, Ezio took care to jump along any balcony that he saw. He snatched a long flower from each one in passing, rather than stopping at one.

  
This meant that by the time he had nearly reached Leonardo’s studio (for where else would he go?) Ezio held a bouquet of a wide array of blooms in striking colours and in many shapes.

 

Passing by a small square, he cast a quick look at a gathering taking place by the well there. What he saw though made him stop so quickly that he lost his balance and almost toppled off the roof.

 

There, sitting and standing by the well, we're a group of young women and-

 

They were making crowns. Out of flowers.

 

They couldn't have been older than fifteen, but they wove their fingers through the numerous stems swiftly yet precisely, braiding and twisting just so to produce what was, frankly, one of the most beautiful things Ezio had ever seen ~~~~~~except Leonardo~~ ~~.~~

 

He barely registered swinging of the roof to the windowsill directly below, but then he made quick work of getting to the ground.

 

The girls didn't seem to register their new visitor, so Ezio approached them without the stealth he would otherwise use.

 

By the sound of footsteps on stone getting closer, one of the girls turned to him. She was sitting on the lower steps of the well, behind one of her friends so she could braid her hair. Her head was adorned with a crown of bright yellow flowers that contrasted beautifully with her dark hair.

 

Her friend whom she was braiding had much lighter brown hair, but this girl barely noticed her friend’s tugs at her hair as she was too busy making a crown with pink carnations and some other white bloom.

 

The dark haired girl looked disinterested at first, then her eyes suddenly widened in what he assumed was recognition.

 

She instantly turned to the girl sat closest to her right and tapped her shoulder incessantly. Looking up from her occupied hands, she locked eyes with Ezio and let out a gasp.

 

This seemed to cause a chain reaction, as every girl turned towards what had disturbed the peace. All eyes were on him.

 

Ezio felt more vulnerable than he had in a very long time. One on one, he knew more than well that he could handle a woman, but in such a sizeable group?

 

_Dio mio._

 

The warm May air had suddenly plunged in temperature thanks to how cold the atmosphere around the well. Ezio could nearly feel their icy exterior draw a chill along his back. To say that he felt less than welcome was a kind understatement.

 

“Buongiorno, ragazze,” he nodded politely. None of them said anything, though one or two narrowed their eyes. He swallowed.

 

“Scusi, but I couldn't help but notice your work and I had to stop by,” he explained, mayhaps a little too quickly.

 

A beat.

 

Then, the only blonde of them spoke up,

 

“You're that man who always runs around on rooftops, aren't you?”

 

_Of all the things I could be known for…_

 

“Si.”

 

The girls all looked between each other, communicating entirely nonverbally. After a while, they turned back to him and a girl with both a crown and her black hair braided said,

 

“Let us guess, you want to know how to make a flower circlet?”

 

Ezio was very curious as to how they'd known that immediately, but he decided that he probably didn't want to know.

 

“If you permit it,” he nodded.

 

The girls conferred again, but this time leaning forward towards each other so that they could whisper. Then, at first one sharp nod and then many.

 

Suddenly they turned toward him again and now some of them even smiled. The air at once cleared, the sun shining so much brighter, heating away the chill at his back and the frost from their eyes.

 

The girl who had first spotted him patted the seat next to her and Ezio saw it for the invitation that it was and quickly went to sit next to her on the stone.

 

“Please excuse me for a moment,” she said, before resuming to work on the half-done braid in her hands.

 

The girls around them went back to what they were doing, unconcerned with their new addition but simply relieved that their peace was restored.

 

Ezio put his improvised bouquet in his lap, watching the girl next to him work.

 

It was fascinating, really. His hands did not lack skills by any means, callused by the hard work he'd put into perfecting his fighting and climbing. But though this girl’s hands were soft and almost unmarked, her fingers moved swifter and with more finesse than he had ever mastered.

 

Soon, the girl tied together the braid and let it slip out of her hands. She turned to Ezio.

 

“My name is Maria,” she said. Ezio ignored the painful twist of his heart. Instead he inclined his head respectfully.

 

“Well met, Maria. I am Ezio.”

 

She smiled at him then, brightly and genuinely and Ezio was struck by how pretty that simple expression made her.

 

“Now then, Ezio, let's look at this little bouquet of yours,” she said, stretching out her hands. Ezio pressed the blooms into them without a word.

 

Maria carefully raked her fingers through the haphazard, disorganised collection.

 

“These will do well,” she surmised, handing them back. “Though you might need to borrow some simple greener twigs to fill in the gap between the flowers.”

 

Ezio didn't know what she meant, but he nodded along.

 

“Now what you shall do first is to take the flower with the longest stem you can find…” Maria began to instruct him.

 

She showed him what to do with which stems, how to twirl them together and secure them, all the while narrating every step and explaining why they were necessary. Ezio listened with rapt attention, working diligently to do as she instructed as thoroughly as he could.

 

Before long, a multicoloured long piece began to grow, then growing longer and longer.  
At last, he secured the ends with a small piece of twine.

 

The result looked almost wild, with flowers of widely different colours and sizes strewn throughout in no real pattern, unlike the precise and structured crowns he'd seen the girls make.

 

“It doesn't look like it's supposed to,” Ezio said, swallowing the disappointment in his voice.

 

“It looks exactly like it's supposed to,” said Maria. “You're the one who made it, and it's like you.”

 

Her kind words managed to comfort him, the corners of his lips turned upwards in a smile. He wanted to tell her of his gratitude, but he couldn't find the words.

 

“How may I thank you?” He asked instead.

 

Maria titled her head back and narrowed her eyes, thinking. She regarded him intensively as she did so.

 

“Your ribbon,” she finally decided.

 

Ezio blinked. “Cosa?”

 

“The red ribbon in your hair, can I have it? I'm all out of ribbons, and it matches my dress,” she explained.

 

Ezio considered her carefully. It did match her dress, he admitted begrudgingly.

 

“Alright,” he said. Maria smiled widely.

 

Ezio put his hands behind his head to pull at the tightly knit ribbon until it gave way and fell into his hands. 

 

His hair fell down with it, the ends brushing his neck and framing his face. He pushed down a shiver, unused to the feel of it.

 

Ezio tucked some of the offending tresses behind his ear before putting his ribbon in Maria’s waiting hand. He watched as she enconsced it tightly within her grasp and as her grin grew even wider. 

 

“Grazie, signore,” she thanked him. “Arrividerci."

 

“Anche voi, signora. Arrivederci,” he rose from the step and walked to face the group once more.

 

Ezio made a deep, graceful bow, causing some of the girls to titter behind their hands. He smiled to himself, grateful that he could at least beguile them in some way, before sprinting off.

 

* * *

  

 

Ezio swung in through the open window with his usual flair, but landed almost soundlessly on the wooden floor. His gut wrenched with an indescribable feeling at the sight before him.

 

 _Leonardo_.

 

He stood with his back to the window and made no sign of having heard Ezio enter. Before him was a half finished canvas, the myriad of colours only starting to take form, but Ezio barely registered this.

 

All he saw was Leonardo, Leonardo who stood with his brush in the air like he did when he was supposed to be working but was really lost in his head. The floor below was stained with drops or light beige that had fallen from the brush’s tip and the fingers that held it were mottled with paint that were in varying stages of drying.

 

But he could not see his face.

 

“Mio amico,” the words escaped on a breath without him meaning to, barely above a whisper. But this Leonardo heard. 

 

He turned around and once he saw the source of the noise, his eyes widened. The brush dropped from his hands.

 

Leonardo did not look well. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and his hair hung limply around his and his frame looked thinner than before, more gaunt. His clothes weren't so well fitted or kept as they had been and he wasn't wearing his hat.

 

Leonardo looked like a man fighting a battle with his own stress, and like he was losing.

 

But his eyes were alight and brimming with life, his cheeks were flooded with colour and the sun had begun to draw out the freckles that dotted his skin. He had paint on his face, just like the day when Ezio found out what the feeling blossoming in his chest was. The reminder served to make Ezio’s heart ache even more, but he welcomed it.

 

More importantly though was the joy on Leonardo’s face. It was so bright that Ezio was surprised the sun had not hidden itself from the shame of being so outmatched.

 

“Ezio,” it was a simple acknowledgement, but Ezio’s heart began to beat faster nevertheless.

 

But Leonardo neither did or said anything else. He seemed frozen in place, afraid to move for fear of Ezio disappearing.

 

So Ezio let the flower crown in his hand fall to the floor and closed the gap between them. He drew Leonardo into his arms and held him flush against his chest.

 

Leonardo’s hands clung tightly to his back and Ezio hid a wince as it tugged on a nearly healed injury. But that didn't matter. What mattered was how Leonardo dug his face into the crook of the other man’s neck, the hitching of his breath and the way Ezio slowly lifted a hand to calmly stroke his hair.

 

Going by the feeling of something wet against his neck, Ezio guessed that either the paint on Leonardo’s face wasn't as dry as he’d thought it was, or Leonardo was crying.

 

Since Mama Maria had raised her son to have manners (as well as she could), Ezio decided not to make a comment no matter which alternative was true.

 

He'd be a hypocrite if he did, considering the way his own his stung.

 

When Leonardo after a while relaxed his grip, Ezio did too. They pulled away nearly in sync, but they stayed close.

 

Leonardo’s eyes were red around the edges, but other than that there was no trace of him having lost his composure. His eyes flickered over Ezio as if he didn't know where to look first, but soon stuck to the man’s neck.

 

“You, ah…” Leonardo pointed to the crook of his neck. “My apologies; I got some paint on you.”

 

Ezio put a hand up to his neck. His fingers came away smudged with light pink. He huffed out a laugh.

 

“Looks like it,” he confirmed.

 

Leonardo looked away.

 

“I should- I think I have some cloth,” he stuttered and moved to walk away, but Ezio stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

“It can wait,” he said. “I made you something.”

 

Leonardo looked like he was about to ask a question, but Ezio broke away first. He swiftly went back to the window and picked up the crown he'd dropped there. Thankfully, it didn't impact on its side so the flowers were alright.

 

He held it gingerly, trying to steer off his nervousness as he turned back to his friend. Leonardo’s eyes grew slightly wider when he caught sight of the crown.

 

“What…?” He struggled to articulate the thoughts running through his head.

 

“I have brought you no less than three bouquets in a row,” Ezio began. “I thought I ought to- I don't know. I thought you deserved something more. It's been long, over a month, I wanted to put more thought into it… _non lo so._ I saw some women making this and asked them to show me how. _Merda_ I’m rambling. May I?”

 

He gestured from the flower crown to Leonardo’s head. The other man nodded.

 

“Yes, of course I- of course.” The smile on his face was brittle and small, but it was genuine. Ezio could tell, and in the back of his mind he felt relief, that he wasn't the only one who was scared for something so-

 

He stepped forward so he stood in front of his friend once more. Leonardo outright stared at the gift when it was closer to him. Ezio suddenly felt unsure _doesitlookbadwhatisit_ until Leonardo flashed him an amused grin.

 

“I don't believe I'm the only artist out of the two of us anymore, Ezio,” he said.

 

Ezio firmly ignored the heat that rose in his cheeks. He struggled to find a proper response to that.

 

“I would never dare to challenge the great _messere Da Vinci_ ,” he settled for, tongue in cheek.

 

Leonardo chuckled, but tilted his head down, a silent queue for Ezio to continue.

 

Ezio turned the crown so that the prettiest flowers (according to him) were in the front, a large, round and purplish bloom, one smaller in a brilliant pink and another one in a deep blue.

 

He smoothed down the hair on the side of Leonardo’s head before putting the crown in place. Cautiously, unused to the new weight on his head, Leonardo tilted his face back up.

 

A lock of hair fell down to cover his eye. Before he could do anything, Ezio raised a hand to brush it away and tuck it behind his ear. But he didn't let his hand fall down immediately afterwards.

 

It hovered over the other’s cheek before at last settling around his neck, resting on his collar. The space between them had lessened without them noticing, so much that they shared the same air. Only, neither seemed to be breathing.

 

It felt like a small eternity before Ezio dared speaking. When he did, it came out as little more than a whisper.

 

“Can I…?”

 

No gestures were needed this time.

 

“Of course."

 

And so Ezio leaned in, and met Leonardo’s lips with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact during swedish midsummer flower crowns and flowers in general are an integral part of tradition and some kinds are said to reveal who your soulmate is in a dream if you put them under your pillow, and i really miss summer so i wanted to throw some flower crowns in here. having ezio make a bi-pride themed flower crown was actually a complete accident tho lol
> 
> also the sort of cliffhanger isn't me being mean, i promise. i just really wanted to publish this and the chapter would be too long if i included the whole next scene


	5. the mincing mockingbird guide to troubled birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck i'm bad at writing kissing. apologies in advance for any wincing and cringes that this chapter will cause 
> 
> there is still no beta-reader in my life

  
Kissing Leonardo felt a lot like coming home.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had done it a thousand times before. Like he would do it a thousand times again. Yet at the same time it was as if it wasn't only his first kiss with Leonardo, but his first kiss overall.

Not that he hadn't felt anything while kissing and being kissed before, but none of it felt as true as this.

The kiss was chaste at first, just the touching of lips, but one of them (or maybe both, neither bothered to keep track) opened their mouth ever so slightly and it escalated from that.

It wasn't elegant, none of it. It was clumsy. Their noses bumped into each other uncomfortably and their teeth clacked when they moved. Neither of their lips were soft, too chapped from being bitten in thought and roughened by wind. Ezio faintly tasted the metal tinge of blood in confusion before realising that it was his own, from a scab that had reopened earlier.

It was far from perfect, but neither cared. Ezio made a noise in the back of his throat and Leonardo responded by lifting a hand to tug tightly at his hair (and it was fortunate that he had lost his ribbon, or surely it would have fallen victim to the inventor’s ministrations).

The longer they carried on, the more they seemed to fit. They adjusted to each other, they began to move more in tandem, less like they were trying to prove something and more like they were working towards the same goal. Ezio brought both his hands to Leonardo’s face, smearing the wet paint further, staining his own hands in the process. Leonardo secured his grip on Ezio’s hair in a way that wasn't painful, meanwhile his other arm sneaked up and around Ezio’s waist.

Neither knew for how long they were at it. It felt like time had slowed down around them, like the bustling world outside the studio had stopped only for them. The orange rays of the setting sun streamed in through the open window, the only reminder that they were not alone.

Leonardo pulled Ezio impossibly closer and Ezio groaned. Heat surged through his entire body, making him kiss fiercer, deeper.

And when Leonardo took him by the hand and led him towards the bed, he followed.

 

* * *

 

Later, when the sun had been replaced by the moon and the flower crown lay secure on the desk, Ezio laid with his head on Leonardo's bare shoulder. The inventor was quietly playing with his hair, tracing and curling his fingers through it. A candlelight flickered over the walls, sometimes enough to make a noise, but apart from that, the only sound in the room came from their breathing.

Suddenly, Ezio broke the silence with a question he'd kept in the back of his head for a long while.

“Do you love me?” he asked, almost quiet as a murmur. “Because I love you.”

The fingers in his hair suddenly stilled and Ezio felt his heart stuck in his throat. He could not have imagined what Leonardo said next.

“Ezio, I’ve loved you for years now,” he replied, in a tone that said I thought you knew, wasn't it obvious?

But it clearly hadn't been obvious for Ezio. The way his eyes boggled was almost comical. He shot up to a sitting position, twisting so he could see Leonardo's face.

“You knew?” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Leonardo said, sitting up as well. “We both are, apparently.”

Ezio spluttered.  
“No, no, no. I'm oblivious, yes. It took me way too long to figure out. But, you're just…” He gesticulated wildly with his hands for no good reason. “...dense! You had it all figured out while I was stumbling about like a tesoro! This-,” he gestured between the both of them, “-could've happened so much earlier!”

Leonardo visibly struggled to find a good retort.  
“W-well,” he stuttered. “How could I know? You're practically on first-name basis with every prostitute in Venezia, and on top of that you were still frantically dealing with the loss of your father and brothers. It didn't exactly look like you were on the look for love, let alone had time for it.”

“I understand that, but what about this past year? It's been the calmest one yet, so why were you still silent?” Ezio pressed on. Leonardo looked very uncomfortable.

“Merda, Ezio, do I really have to say it? I was afraid you'd reject me.”

Ezio’s jaw dropped. “Afraid I’d reject you?” He said in disbelief. “But you're… You!”

“Very illuminating, Ezio, grazie,” Leonardo said drily.

“I mean you're a genius, an inventor, an artist, you're funny, you're infuriatingly handsome and you were afraid I’d reject you?” He paused, frowning deeply.

“Would this ever have happened if I hadn't pulled my head out of my backside?” Ezio asked.

Leonardo sighed. “I don't know. I honestly don't know.” Then he made a hesitant smile. “But I'm glad you're braver than I am.”

Ezio snorted. “I wouldn't call stealing an old lady’s flowers brave,” he muttered, almost too quiet to hear.

“You did what?”

Ezio suddenly put his hands on Leonardo's shoulders and pushed him back down on the bed before sealing their lips in a heated kiss. Leonardo's hands instantly came up to tangle his hand in his hair.

They only separated when they remembered that they had to breathe, both gasping as they parted.

“What were we saying again?” Leonardo asked.

“Love confessions,” Ezio said. “Really poetic, all of it. It really shows that you're an artist, I almost started crying there at the end.”

It wasn't that funny, but still Leonardo chuckled, eyes shining with mirth. Ezio wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again, and again after that.

Leonardo carded his fingers through Ezio’s hair again.

“By the way, what happened to your ribbon?” he asked.

“What?”

“The red ribbon, they one you always use to tie your hair back,” Leonardo clarified.

Ezio snorted. “Oh, that. It was sacrificed to the greater good.”

The other man raised a brow. “Will I regret asking how?”

“It involves a large group of pretty girls.” At Leonardo’s dubious look, he added, “They showed me how to make that crown in exchange for it. They were nice, so I’m sure it’s in good hands.”

“And its loss let me see your with your hair down for the first time, as well.”

Ezio frowned in thought. “Really? This was the first time?”

“Honestly, I had begun to think that piece of cloth was a permanent part of your hair,” Leonardo said. “Also-,” his voice was muffled by Ezio leaning up to kiss him.

“How rude,” he said when Ezio pulled back. The man grinned at him.

“You’re just mad that I finally have a way to make you quiet,” Ezio teased.

“Yes, a very rude way.”

“You love it.”

Leonardo pretended to look pensive and hummed. “I’m not sure yet. I think I need more examples before I can be sure.”

Ezio took the hint and kissed him again. And again. And again.

Leonardo traced his hands over his partner’s shoulders, then down his back. Ezio hissed sharply when he accidentally graced a not yet fully healed wound.

“Mi dispiace,” Leonardo apologised with a sad look.

“It’s fine,” assured Ezio, because it was. “It's almost healed.”

“Yes, almost.”

“Just wait until I’m fully healed, then you'll see what I can really do,” Ezio smirked.

“What, instantly get injured again?”

Ezio laughed, a small spark of feeling running down his spine. He let his head fall down on Leonardo’s chest with a thump.

“Cazzo, I really do love you, you know,” he said. Leonardo put his arms around him.

“I love you, too. I don't think I'll ever stop.”

“We're so sappy,” Ezio whined against his partner’s skin. “When did we get so old?”

Leonardo huffed. “I'm older than you are, Ezio.”

“Practically ancient, then.”

“Tesoro,” Leonardo gruffed. “Respect your elders,” he said, then pinched him. He giggled evilly at the very undignified yelp Ezio let out.

“You play dirty.”

Leonardo stuck his tongue between his teeth. “I learned from the best.”

Ezio grumbled when he came up short on a proper retort. He pulled the bed’s cover higher up from where it had slid down to their thighs, burrowing further into the bed and, consequently, Leonardo. The man in question responded by hugging him impossibly closer, tilting his face down to touch the top of Ezio’s head.

Ezio didn't know how long it took but sooner rather than later, he slipped into a restful sleep.

 

* * *

  
He awoke for a short while as the sun rose by Leonardo slipping out from under him. He blinked blearily, trying to form a question but only managing to utter a hoarse “mwuh…?”. Leonardo kissed his forehead and said some reassurance, but it sounded too far away for Ezio to hear. Already he was drifting back to sleep, head slumping back down to the mattress.  
Subconsciously he curled in on himself further, seeking the remnants of the source of warmth that had gone from him.

He woke again, not knowing how much time has passed, when a bird chose the studio’s window to perch and sing. It's notes were light and clear as a bell, drilling a beautiful melody that was sure to attract some other lovely, single bird who appreciated a fine tune.

But Ezio was not an appreciative audience. He groaned in annoyance and pulled the covers over his head to block out the noise. It proved futile, however, as the bird somehow found the energy to sing even louder.

“Please go flirt somewhere else,” Ezio mumbled unhappily. But the bird ignored him and Ezio had to realise that he wouldn't be going back to sleep. Though he groaned last time before he rose, to make sure that his objection was noted.

He sat hunched on the edge of the bed, slowly blinking sleep from his eyes.

Leonardo’s clothes were gone from where they had been dropped on the floor, while Ezio’s weren’t though they had been neatly folded.

Theory: Leonardo had woken up, dressed, folded Ezio’s clothes and had gone and had most likely ventured outside, since he wasn't working on a project.

The bird sang a particularly high note and Ezio winced before turning his head towards it. He didn't know its species, but it was a small thing. Its feathers were a dull brown, but they shone in purple and green when the light hit a certain angle.

Ezio got up and bent to pick up his shirt and trousers, deciding to forgo his usual regalia just for the morning. His hands went behind his head to manage his queue but realised too late that, oh right. His hair was loose and his ribbon was gone.

He pouted, put out that his hair was confined to be a ruin until he could find a suitable replacement. Ezio was big enough to admit that, yes, he was vain, and this lack of a neat, controlled tail was a bit of a blow to his self-esteem. His hair was usually so immaculate, damn it.

The bird still sung. Ezio turned to it again.

“May you find love, my friend,” he said. “So that you won't bother me again.”

The bird continued to chirp. Ezio yawned.

Then he was very much awake as he heard the door downstairs open and shut. Instantly his bare feet carried him across the floor to the stairs and then down, nearly (but only nearly) tripping on the way.

There in front of the door stood Leonardo, a basket of bread and fruit in one arm, the flowers on his head and in his other arm-

Ezio’s breath hitched.

“Ah, Ezio! I had planned on surprising you,” Leonardo said, moving to relieve himself of his purchases.

“Consider me surprised,” Ezio said sincerely. Never could he have anticipated the bouquet of roses Leonardo carried. There were a dozen of them, half of them red and the other white. They were full in bloom and so elegant, so beautiful, Ezio didn't know what to say.

Leonardo had moved to set up the table for a simple breakfast, having deposited the roses on the table.

“I'll put them in a vase shortly, I just wanted to have this done first,” Leonardo said.

Ezio took the bouquet in hand, holding them like he’d hold a priceless artefact, for this was a treasure to him.

“You didn't have to,” he said. Leonardo just waved a hand, rummaging through his cupboards after something to use as a vase.

“It's only fair,” he inventor said. “I'm returning the favour. You deserve gifts as much, if not more, than I do.”

He made an a-ha noise before pulling out a pitcher and filling it halfway with water. Ezio handed him the roses silently, still filled with wonder.

“You don't have to feel like you owe me something,” Ezio said. “I have your love, that's already more than I could hope to expect.”

Leonardo flushed, but quickly tried to hide it by turning away.

“I didn’t get you a bouquet because I felt like I had to, Ezio, I promise. I did it because I wanted to. There's a very important difference.”

Ezio surged in close to kiss him passionately. Leonardo first made a noise of surprise but quickly melted against him. Ezio soon pulled away though, but reached down to grab one of his partner’s hands.

“I realise that I haven't said thank you yet, so… Thank you. Truly.”

Leonardo gave him a short, chaste kiss against his lips.

“You're welcome.” Then he gestured to the table. “Come, let's eat. You should be starving after exerting yourself so much yesterday.”

Ezio couldn't help but snort.

Leonardo sighed, but he did look faintly amused.  
“I meant by travelling, but sure, interpret it that way. I should expect nothing less.”

Ezio decided to change the subject.  
“Did you really wear that crown the whole time you shopped?”

“I'll have you know I received multiple compliments,” Leonardo announced.

Ezio grinned. “Maybe you’ve started a trend.”

Leonardo chuckled. “I doubt it, but everything is possible. That reminds me, the florist I bought the roses from was acting strange,” he said. Ezio raised an eyebrow.

“Really? How?” He asked.

“She took one look at the flowers on my head and my clothes before saying ‘are you Leonardo?’. Not even Leonardo da Vinci, just Leonardo. Then when I said yes she looked, well, exactly like someone who knows that they know something I don't. She was nice, very polite, but the way she smiled when I asked for roses was… Unsettling.” He shook his head. “As I said, strange. But her flowers were the best, so.”

Ezio felt a cold sweat breaking out behind his knees.  
“Weird,” he said.

Something in his tone must've given him away, because Leonardo gave him a sideways glance. Ezio’s hands felt clammy. But then Leonardo suddenly perked up.

“Oh, I almost forgot…!” He rooted around in the pouch on his belt before pulling out a long, broad, red band.

Ezio’s eyes widened. “You did not.”

“I very much did,” said Leonardo. “Since you lost yours so bravely. May I?”

Ezio turned around. Leonardo gathered his brown hair, combing his fingers through the worst of the tangles before pulling it back in a tail and tying the band in a ribbon.

“Today is one surprise after another,” Ezio said quietly, a smile tugging on his lips.

Leonardo took his rough, calloused hands in his own.

“I promise to do my best to continue to surprise you,” he said, before bending his head and lifting Ezio’s hands so he could kiss his fingers, then his knuckles.

Then they trailed upwards; his wrist, the crook of his elbow, his shoulder, his throat. They grew bolder and more numerous at his jaw, then below his ear and finally his lips, which received the most attention. Then both of their hands began to wander.

Upstairs, the bird was still singing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Old Woman Knows Everything™ 
> 
> and remember kiddies: ezio and leo are v bad role models. you should ALWAYS eat ur breakfast. it's the most important meal of the day. especially if you had unsafe renaissance sex the night before


	6. Run, boy, run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life catches ya fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kinda late! School is determined to take away all my free time and on top of that, my farmor (father's mother) died so life has been rough. You may notice that with this chapter, since it's even sillier than usual. 
> 
> As always, it's completely unedited and bad. 
> 
> Also, the lovely Kierenne has begun a Russian translation! :D I've put the link in the first chapter, so go check it out!

  
“So, how do you know the old woman?”  
The question itself was very innocent, if not for the way Leonardo had steadied his elbows on the table, pushed his chair in further and leaned forward in a way that clearly said you won't be escaping this time. It was the tone he said it with as well, with an iron will behind it that Leonardo rarely displayed (which only made it more effective when he did). That sardonic little smile was just the icing on the cake, really.

After their little detour they'd both sat down at the table as to not let the food go to waste. A companionable silence had settled during their meal, a silence which now as they’d broken their fast, had broken as well.

If Ezio had been a lesser man he would have fallen out of his chair. Maybe scrambled back to his feet and run out the door afterwards, gotten on a ship, left Italy and never return. Maybe start a new life somewhere else- Konstantinopel maybe. He'd heard a lot of good things about that city and had always wanted to visit.

Maybe he could re-educate himself. Leave the Assassins entirely. Start fresh as a weaver. Make carpets.  
The idea was very tempting. Anything but having to admit Yeah I tried to steal from an old woman but she ended up scolding me and also I told her about you despite the fact that she could've had you arrested. Sorry about that. Can we go back to exchanging saliva now?

Instead, he looked confused.  
“Who?” He bluffed. “There are many old women in Venezia. Which one do you mean?”

“The florist. The one who knew who I was,” Leonardo explained, not about to be deterred.

“You're famous, tesoro, maybe she's heard of your work,” Ezio suggested.

“Famous among people who like to hang pictures of other people on their walls, yes. Not so much in the agricultural circles.”

“Does selling flowers count as agriculture?” That was a very good question, actually. Selling didn't mean you were a farmer, but he knew the old woman planted and picked most of her own flowers. Did that mean she was a farmer? Could one farm and harvest flowers? Did it count? Many farmers also sold their products themselves, so really-

“ _Ezio_.” Leonardo sounded aggravated.

“What?”

“Focus, please,” said Leonardo.

Ezio frowned. “I am focusing. Your statement about agriculture made me think.”

“Please don't exert yourself, I know it's hard for you,” said Leonardo, completely deadpan. Ezio sniffed.

“Now who’s being rude?”

“You are,” said Leonardo. “For trying to change the subject.”

“I'm not trying to change anything, I just want to know if you can say that you farm and harvest flowers if you plant them with the intent to pick them at a later date and use them,” Ezio pointed out, feeling quite philosophical.

“You can't eat flowers,” Leonardo argued. Ezio inclined his head.

“True, but you can't eat cotton either and yet people farm cotton,” he said. Leonardo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Just please tell me how you and the florist know each other,” he pleaded with Ezio. Ezio still wasn't feeling particularly helpful.

“I don't even know her name,” he said. Only after saying it did it occur to him that, yes, that was actually true. He had no idea what her name was. He just thought about her as ‘the old woman’, which was unfair to her because there were many old women in Venezia but none of them were as memorable as she. Did she know _his_ name?

He blinked. Now that he thought about it, he realised that she had only ever called him ‘stolto’ when she called him anything. That made him feel slightly better about not knowing her name, since at least he didn't call her mean words. Unless she'd take offence to being called ‘old’, but he'd never don't it to her face so he wouldn't know.

“So how does she know me?” Leonardo asked again. Ezio swallowed. That, he _did_ know.

“Maybe she'd heard a rumour about a handsome man dressed in pink stealing hearts all over Italy. So when she saw you she thought _ah, it all makes sense_ ,” Ezio said, pointedly looking at his pink doublet. Leonardo raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Don't think calling me handsome will make me less suspicious,” he said. “If anything, it does the opposite.”

“But you are handsome,” Ezio said. “Beautiful, even.”

Leonardo sighed, again. He leaned back in his chair, spreading his hands in a look of defeat.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he said. “I'll find out sooner or later, with or without your help.” He stated it as a simple fact, but Ezio honestly felt a little bit threatened.

“Do you want to share some more saliva later?” Ezio said as a very poor tension breaker. Leonardo wrinkled his nose.

“Gross, Ezio.”

“What, you draw the line at _saliva_? You're the one who talks about corpses when we eat!” Ezio said, throwing his hands up.

Leonardo’s ears turned a bit red as he spluttered.  
“Well, excuse me, but I thought you'd be the last one to balk at talk of corpses, what with you producing so many of them!”

“There is a line, Leonardo!”

And so their playful discussion carried on back and forth, both of them enjoying the challenge the other posed. They threw quips back and forth until as they moved on from one subject to the next with smooth transitions. They talked and talked, until they forgot where they'd begun and all thoughts of the florist were gone from their heads.

 

* * *

 

When Ezio had once more crashed through Leonardo’s window uninvited, wanting to spend time with him, Leonardo was halfway through the door. So naturally Ezio decided to escort him wherever it was he was headed.

“I believe I am perfectly capable of walking by myself, Ezio,” Leonardo said, closing his door behind them both.

“And I believe you'd get sidetracked no less than ten times if you walked alone,” Ezio responded, hooking his arm around Leonardo’s. Leonardo gave him a dirty look but otherwise didn't respond. He just began to walk, but he didn't shake Ezio’s arm off.

“So where are we going?” Ezio asked.

“ _I'm_ going to meet with a possible future client. A lovely lady, I think she wanted a portrait of her son made,” Leonardo said. They ducked into a more trafficked street, joining the stream of people also headed from point a to b.

“Is the son as lovely as the lady?” Ezio asked. The corner of Leonardo’s mouth curled up.

“You almost sound jealous,” he said.

“Ha!” said Ezio. “It's impossible to be jealous when you're the handsomest man in Italy.”

Leonardo snorted. “It's a wonder how you can fit in through my window with a head that big.”

“Don't worry, Leonardo; you're the second handsomest man,” Ezio said with a pat to Leonardo's arm.

“Thank you.” Leonardo's voice couldn't have been drier.

“You're welcome.”

Just then, Ezio spotted another pair walking arm in arm. He wrinkled his brow in thought, trying to think of where he'd seen them before. Then one of them turned their head towards Ezio and he recognised her to be Maria, the one who'd helped him make a flower crown for Ezio. The blonde girl she was walking with must've been one of the other girls he'd met then, for as soon as Maria locked eyes with him she smiled and told her friend, who then also looked at him with wide eyes, obviously recognising them.

Both girl made their way across the street towards them. Leonardo must have noticed, because he asked,

“Ezio, are you flirting with those women?”

“Now who's being jealous?” Ezio joked.

“With you it isn't jealousy, it's a just concern,” Leonardo retorted. At that moment Maria and her friend reached them.

“Ciao, Ezio!” Maria greeted with a wide smile which Ezio then matched. He then copied her greeting, adding a nod to the blonde girl he didn't know the name of.

“Who's your friend?” Maria asked.

“Maria, this is Leonardo. Leonardo, meet Maria,” Ezio said. Then he looked at the other girl hesitantly. “Forgive me, signora, I don't think I caught your name.”

She smiled. “I am Livia.” She turned to Leonardo. “What did you think about the crown?”  
Maria tutted and lightly slapped her arm in admonishment. “Don't be rude.”

“I wasn't rude!”

Meanwhile, Ezio was choking on his own spit.

“I'm sorry?” Said Leonardo, understandably confused.

“We met Ezio a few days ago,” explained Maria. “We were practicing making flower crowns with our friends and he spotted us.”

“So he asked us to show him how,” said Livia. “It was really sweet, I will never forget it. He was holding this bouquet and it was obvious that he was really nervous. I'm a pretty non-threatening person but in that moment, I actually felt scary!”

Leonardo looked at Ezio with a disbelieving smirk as if to say _you were scared of a group of fifteen-year olds?_ Ezio glared at him, but his cheeks were so warm they felt feverish.

“He really wanted it to be good. He was very grateful for our help,” continued Maria. “He actually gave me this afterwards.” She pulled her long braid over her shoulder, showing the red ribbon that held it together.

“So that was the ‘greater good’ it was sacrificed for?” mused Leonardo. But Ezio didn't get the opportunity to respond. He only managed to open his mouth before Livia spoke over him.

“But did you like it? The flower crown?”

“I don't understand. How could you know he gave it to me?” asked Leonard.

Livia scoffed. “Well, it's obvious, isn't it? You're-”

“My apologies, Ezio, Leonardo, but I'm afraid we have to go now. Arrivederci!”

Then they were both gone, Maria dragging Livia away from the scene quicker than you could say “what”.

“What?” said Ezio.

“What indeed.”

They resumed their walking in silence. They passed on to another street before Ezio spoke.

“I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

Leonardo hummed. “Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit uncomfortable, but mostly I'm glad.”

Ezio quirked a brow. “Glad?”

“You were afraid of a group of girls with flowers,” said Leonardo. Ezio disliked the evil glint in his eye. “You, Ezio Auditore, famed assassin, was scared of a bunch of women making _flower crowns._ ” Leonardo was outright sniggering now.

“I- you weren't there!” Ezio spluttered. “They're terrifying in groups. Also, I was nervous, not scared.”

Leonardo only sniggered louder.

“Oh, vaffanculo.”

They were quiet for many minutes after that, before Leonardo suddenly took a sharp turn.

“We need to go through here,” he said.

“What, through the market? But it's the busiest hour now, it will be packed. It would save us a lot of time to go around it instead.”

Leonardo shook his head.

“I'm, ah. I need to look at something,” he said, too quickly. A twinge of suspicion rose inside Ezio.

“Look at what?”

They were at the mouth of the market now, just beginning to envelop themselves within the bustling crowd.

“Just a little theory of mine,” Leonardo said. At that moment a very familiar stall came into view. Ezio immediately felt a chill go up up his spine. But he didn't say anything, hoping against all hope that they weren't heading for it.

Oh cazzo. Leonardo was steering him right towards it. Ezio slowly began to retract his arm from Leonardo’s without alerting the other man too quickly.

The old woman was standing in her stand of flowers as usual and waved at Leonardo. Leonardo waved back with a smile. Then he saw the florist’s eyes widening before narrowing into slits. She was focused on something behind him.

Leonardo turned, only then noticing that Ezio had somehow slipped from his grip. The man in question was, in fact, sprinting away in the crowd at full speed. Leonardo, agape, watched in shock as Ezio almost upturned a stall before jumping onto the nearest building. He scaled the three story building in only a few seconds, then flew across the tiles before disappearing from view.

He turned back to the old woman, mouth still hanging open.

“He's a bit dramatic, isn't he?” she said.

Leonardo blinked several times.

“Uhm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real fact: Leonardo da Vinci wore pink a lot. I'm bitter about the games not doing his fashion sense justice. 
> 
> Also real fact: Livia and Maria are lesbians and Livia was like "duh-uh, of course the crown was for you" because at that that moment they were basically mirror versions of each other. 
> 
> also yay sweden came fifth place in Eurovision which was p great considering he was basically a walking talking dressman commercial
> 
> if ur european, i hope you enjoyed esc! and whether ur european or not may you pass all your exams!


	7. descendant of the mighty dinosaur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the unicorn dog from Star Trek. Also featured: feelings, a dramatic return, DOVAKHIIN, vases analysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy FUCK you guys I am so sorry for keeping you waiting this long!! This chapter was supposed to be twice as long but the second half isn't finished so I decided you've waited long enough: here's a shortie.   
> This chapter was created basically by me adding in a new sentence every time I had a break at work, so if there's any continuity errors or just general suckiness due to lack of editing: I am so sorry, but at least I have money now

Shame and dread kept him away, but guilt and longing brought him back. Three weeks had passed since Ezio had run away without so much as an explanation, which was not a long time in the grand scheme of things nor the longest he and Leonardo had been apart.   
Yet it felt like a small eternity before he pulled himself up by his bootstraps and headed to the studio.

It was late afternoon when he dropped in, but Leonardo was nowhere to be seen. Ezio didn't know what he had expected, Leonardo was a busy man, of course he wouldn't always be there.

So Ezio resigned himself to waiting. He walked about Leonardo’s home, absentmindedly taking in the detailed changes that had occurred during his absence.

There were the expected ones: new notes scattered over the desk along with new drawings. Parts, both metal, wood and… leather? were scattered all over as well; parts of a greater whole that Ezio could not yet see. It was a whole new mess, but a mess that Ezio was still familiar with.

Contrasting with the ideas and half finished creations were two vases, both perched on the dresser and both filled with multicoloured flowers in varying states of freshness.   
It weren't the flowers themselves that threw Ezio off — it were the vases. Last he had known, Leonardo had not owned a vase, singular. He'd used a pitcher, a drinking glass, never a vase.

Something had transpired in the last three weeks that had caused Leonardo to purchase not one, but two vases. One a plain grey, the other one a plain clay one it looked like Leonardo had painted patterns over; something Ezio hadn't seen him do before.   
What had made him make the decision to get a vase? Or were one, or both, a gift? From who? The mysteries were numerous, and no answers were forthcoming.

It was while studying the painted one (half finished, like most of Leonardo's work. The finished side was the one turned away from the wall,) that he heard a strange sound.   
It was the sound of claws against wood. Tiny, tiny claws clicking against the floor. Ezio turned to locate the noise. It turned out to come from the landing by the stairs.

The clicking started again as it moved closer. “It” being a lizard, with… Wings? Yes, those were fake wings attached to its scaly green back.   
Ezio stepped closer. It looked at him with tiny, emotionless eyes. Ezio sat down on the floor in front of it.

“Who sent you?”

The lizard neither moved nor answered.

“How did you get here, little beast?”

The lizard flicked its long tail and one of the wings fluttered slightly.   
This was mad.

“This is mad.”

Ezio went (ran) away for three weeks and the world is turned upside down. Vases and a small lizard with fake wings.   
Ezio wondered what might have happened should he have stayed away for longer. He nearly feared the world might have ended entirely.

“If you think you can replace me, you're wrong.”

He didn't want to believe that Leonardo had actually replaced him with a lizard, but then again it likely required a lot less maintenance.   
The lizard made a small _chirrp_ and Ezio almost jumped out of his skin in surprise.   
He stretched out a finger towards the lizard, which responded to this slight by biting him. Ezio immediately snatched his hand back. His finger hurt but was relieved to find that the little beast seemingly had no teeth.

Biting was not usually how animals made people warm up to them, but this made Ezio decide that this ferocious little beast was worthy of his respect. He wondered what Leonardo used to feed it.

A rifling through the pantry and some berries later, the beast had warmed up to him. Ezio sat on the floor in the kitchen with the lizard comfortable on his thigh, munching happily. Ezio had gained its permission to lightly pet it by stroking the top of its head and neck.

Of course that would be when Leonardo decided to enter the door. He immediately paused when he saw Ezio. He was holding a purple flower in his hand.

For a while, they both simply stared. The lizard munched on, unbothered.   
Leonardo closed the door behind him.

“I see you've met my dragon,” Leonardo said.

“You're a creative mastermind and a genius and you name your lizard ‘dragon’?”

“What did you call it, then?”

“...Little beast.”

Leonardo snorted. “You didn't even try.”

“I'm not a creative mastermind and a genius.”

Leonardo smiled. “You're right.”

Ezio felt magnanimous enough to let that slide. The “dragon” then bit his finger again, causing him to curse.

“Why’d you even get this… charming little thing?” he asked.

“It was a spontaneous decision,” Leonardo shrugged. “But I doubt you came here to talk about my pet. Why are you here?”

Ezio bit the inside of his cheek. “Can you sit down? I want to be on the same eye level,” he said.

Leonardo raised an eyebrow. “You could get up,” he pointed out.

“I don't want to disturb the dragon.”

Leonardo said nothing, but he did put away the flowers and sat down cross legged in front of Ezio.

“Thank you,” Ezio said.

Ezio didn't know what to do. He'd spent so much time wondering how he would get Leonardo to reciprocate his feelings, worrying if it could ever happen, that now that it _had_ happened… He didn't know what to do. God above, they'd barely gotten past that point when the whole mess occurred.

All he'd ever had before were flings, crushes on people whose names he barely remembered. Christina was the only one before Leonardo Ezio had something more substantial with, but even that relationship was shallow one. They’d both been too young.

Leonardo, however… _merda_. They knew how to be friends, yes, and it had been established that they both loved each other. But how does one move from jumping in through a window with a codex page and out again to- whatever proper adults in a romantic relationship did? What was he supposed to do, now that he had screwed up and they both knew it?

This was Leonardo. This was serious. He couldn’t run away, come back and expect everything to go back to what they were before he messed up. There were no rules for this sort of thing anyway, at least that he knew of. There wasn't a guideline on how to communicate like adults. He couldn't kill his way out of this one, either.

Well, he _could_ , but that would only make things worse for him.

Ezio settled for doing the first thing that came to his mind, even though it was something he had little (sincere) experience with.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “For running away. And then staying away afterwards. It was immature and I'm sorry.”  
He then furrowed his brow.   
“Don't do that, you'll catch flies.”

Leonardo closed his mouth.

“I made a mistake and I'm sorry if it hurt your feelings. I can't promise I won't make a mistake again, because I will. I'll make lots of them.”

“Inspiring, Ezio.”

“ _Taci_! What I mean is that I can't promise that I won't screw up, but I'll try to learn from it and I'll do what I can to make sure it doesn't happen again.”

Ezio found himself growing very warm at the smile that lit up Leonardo’s face. He covered his embarrassment by scratching the dragon under its chin, something that pleased it if the way it closed its eyes were anything to go by.

“Tesoro,” Leonardo said.

“I’m also definitely never doing that again, so don't get your hopes up,” Ezio said. “It was a one time matter only and only for you. Also I'm inevitably going to be gone for an extended period of time again in the future. Multiple times. And considering the vases and…” Ezio gestured at the dragon eating berries on his thigh. “...I just hope you're not going to go really crazy and get curtains and a unicorn next time. At least without warning.”

“Don't worry, I can't afford a horse,” Leonardo reassured him.

“I thought you of all people wouldn't need a horse to make a unicorn. I wouldn't be surprised if you found a dog tomorrow, put a horn on it and said ‘behold!’”

“You're giving me ideas, my friend,” Leonardo grinned.

Ezio scoffed. “Impossible. I know you’ve already thought of a thousand different ways to make mythical beings out of everything from dogs to goats.”

“Can we go back to the part where you implied that vases are strange?” Leonardo said.

“It _is_ , though!” Ezio insisted. “A lizard turned into a dragon? Insane in any other context by any other person. By you? Well, compared to other things you've done this isn't even the craziest.”

“I am blown away by your confidence in me,” Leonardo deadpanned.

Ezio smiled as the dragon licked his fingers. “I knew you would be.”

“And the vases are _gifts_ I'll have you know,” Leonardo continued. He stretched one of his legs out further, almost touching Ezio. “Floriana gave them to me.”

“Floriana?”

“Floriana Parrino, the only woman except your mother I've seen put the fear of God in you.”

“Oh,” Ezio said. Then, “ _Oh_.”

Oh, the florist. Oh, the old woman. That oh.

A terrifying thought dawned for Ezio.

“Why did she give them to you?”

“She noticed I used a pitcher when she came over with a bouquet, called me a heathen, and the next time we met gave me a vase.”

The implications of that statement made the thought even more terrifying. Leonardo didn't invite just anyone over, and a woman of… Floriana’s (calling her by her name was all sorts of strange) wouldn't just _give away_ things like that. Ezio was the exception because Ezio is everybody’s exception, one way or another.

“If I had realised that my actions would lead you and the signora to join forces and organise tea parties, I swear to God I never would have ran,” Ezio confessed.

Leonardo made a _tsk_ sound, picking up his pet and standing up in one graceful move.

“You should join us sometime,” he said, his face telling Ezio that he didn't expect him to do anything but disagree. Which was completely true, Ezio imagined he'd be eaten alive if he agreed.

“I’d be much more interested in finding out how your whole friendship started,” he said, standing up. Leonardo put his dragon in his shoulder.

“I'm sure you remember running like the hounds of hell were on your tail,” he said, ignoring the glare Ezio sent him. “And we bonded over our shared despair for you, she invited me to her home and we shared stories about you. Friendship wasn't far away. I particularly enjoyed you confessing to loving a man to a practical stranger. Well _done_ there, it's not like it could have gotten the both of us killed or anything like that.”

“The signora is clearly a very open minded woman,” Ezio said.

“The signora has been living in sin with another woman for almost twenty years. She's the one who gave me the clay vase. Her name is Isabella, you’d love her.” Leonardo made a casual waving gesture as he said it, like he was commenting on the weather rather than revealing something that was deeply personal to the ones he spoke of.

“Twenty years?” That was the part that truly stuck with Ezio. Twenty years was nearly as long as he had been alive. Two people, two women had stayed together for almost twenty years and they still lived?

“You know what,” he said. “I _would_ love to meet them. Let's all have dinner.”

Leonardo could not even begin to hide his shock. The dragon dropped his last berry and it fell to the floor with a sad _plop_.

“I am… Ezio, are you sure?” He asked.

Ezio crossed his arms. “Of course.”

“Have you even been to a _dinner_ since you were seventeen?”

Ezio licked his upper lip, eyes twitching to glance across the room, counting his ways of escape. “Yes, with Mario and Claudia.”

Leonardo sagged his shoulders. “With people who aren't your family,” he said.

“I've eaten with you,” Ezio said defensively.

“I'm not sure either of us ever really eat,” Leonardo pointed out, which. Point. “But, are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do.” Leonardo stepped into Ezio’s space and put his hand on his shoulder and suddenly Ezio remembered just how awful the last three weeks without him had been.

Rather than replying directly, he pulled a sideways smile.   
“Does Thursday work for you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure whether it was true that Leonardo da Vinci actually had a "pet dragon" since it was spread by some old renaissance asshole from their equivalent of The Onion but lbr, if anyone would, it's him
> 
> Also ily guys so much!! I'll try not to let the next chapter take as long!


	8. harold...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> perchè tu sei molto dolce? = why are you so sweet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ezio what are you doing....acting like a pining teenager when you're already a couple....
> 
> SO sorry about the wait! I had an italian exchange student staying at my house for a while (which provided some inspiration but little time for me to use it (it also made my italian improve because fuck, why does no one in italy speak good english?? help)) and this thursday i'm off to belgium for a week and after THAT i'm off to france so. this brief window between things-i've-gotta-do is the only time in forever i could get a chapter out. so! here you are! i hope you're all great!
> 
> also pro-tip for all you southern europeans out there: don't kiss a swede on the cheek. do not. the italian exchange students learned that the hard way

“I'm having second thoughts.”

 

Leonardo waved his hand dismissively. “You'll do fine, bello,” he said without looking up from where he was lacing up his sleeve. Ezio wasn't so easily convinced, however. The time between him suggesting the dinner and the day of the occasion had left him with too much time to consider all that might go wrong. It was a very long list, much longer than what could go right. Miracles tended to happen, but they rarely happened to Ezio. Leonardo was one spectacular enough. He didn't dare jinx the miracle he had by wanting another.

 

“Normally I wouldn't be so nervous about charming a couple of women, but my luck seems to have run out lately. Then there's the fact that I suspect the old florist- Signora Parrino -,” he corrected himself when Leonardo looked up and glared daggers at him, “- likely isn't a woman at all, but a vengeful spirit sent to haunt me for the mistakes of my past lives.” It would explain a lot of things, actually.

 

“The play stage has lost a promising thespian,” Leonardo sighed, finishing his sleeve. “All will be well, amore. You'll do just fine.”

 

Ezio frowned. “Il dio mio, you only say amore when it's apocalyptic,” he said.

 

Leonardo looked pensive. “I don't think I've ever called you amore before?”

 

“That's how I know.”

 

Leonardo just sighed again. “Ezio, if you have really changed your mind just say so. I’ll tell them you fell ill or an urgent matter came up. You should not force yourself if you don't want to. They will understand.”

 

Ezio look dubiously at him. He very much doubted the florist would buy it, but the fact that Leonardo had offered to cover for him was touching. “Truly? You would lie?”

 

“I am a liar by trade,” Leonardo smiled. “How else do you think I manage to make my commissioners pay in advance? If I said the work would take me five weeks longer than promised, I would be out of a job.”

 

Ezio silently thought that five _months_ was more accurate, but held his tongue for the moment. That would only begin another argument.

 

“Grazie, Leonardo,” he said truthfully, running a hand over his head to smooth his hair down. Leonardo's gentle locks framed his face perfectly as always, but no matter how hard Ezio tried he could make his hair stay in his queue. “But I was the one who suggested it. To change my mind now would be cowardly.”

 

Leonardo bit his bottom lip. “More cowardly than-”

 

Ezio put a hand up. “ _Stop_.” There were only so many reminders of his less than graceful escape from the florist he could manage. Four a day, at most six. Leonardo was guaranteed to exceed this limit. But the playful smirk on his face made Ezio forgive him instantly.

 

Down by Ezio’s feet, the small dragon that remained nameless had begun to scale the outside of his boot, which distracted him from whatever Leonardo responded with. One of its small, leather wings was crooked in an unnatural angle. They would have to fix that.

 

“Ezio?”

 

He looked up. Leonardo stood with his arms splayed out to display his outfit, a red creation that nearly matched Ezio’s in colour theme – with the exception that his looked a tad more respectable, of course. Ezio smiled.

 

“Tu sei bellissimo.” He was indeed beautiful. The fading rays of the sun streaming in through the window cast a shine over his hair that made it resemble molten gold. The brocade gleamed in a nearly preternatural way. Ezio believed a lesser man would have gone blind if he stared at his shine for too long.

But Ezio was not a lesser man, and so he looked at Leonardo as much as he could, taking in every detail and committing them to memory. A flush now rose in his cheeks at Ezio’s words, some shades lighter than his doublet. Yet he met Ezio’s gaze just as steadily. Not looking away, he took a step closer.

 

“Say it again?” He said, smiling brilliantly. “I don't think I heard you.”

 

Ezio stepped closer too, fearing his grin would grow broad enough to split his face in half if they continued like this.

 

“ _Bellissimo,_ ” he repeated, his tone a bit lower, a bit more quiet.

 

Just a step closer. “Again?”

The teasing tone tugged at Ezio’s heart strings.

 

He took Leonardo’s hands in his own and leaned closer, almost whispering it;

 

“Belissimo.”

 

Ezio leaned in and Leonardo’s eyes fell shut.

 

At that moment, the dragon had successfully scaled Ezio’s side and now bit into his neck. Since it had no teeth it could've been worse, but just the pinch of it was painful enough. He floundered backwards, spitting and swearing while trying to get the lizard off. The pain blossomed in his neck even more and he _knew_ it would sting for a while after. Leonardo, however, laughed – a noise bearing an uncanny resemblance to the ringing of the clearest of bells.

 

“I'm glad _someone_ deprives joy from this,” Ezio muttered. The lizard had scurried off, the bastard. It probably knew that was the only way to save itself from Ezio’s revenge.

 

“Oh, I'm honoured my dragon would task itself as the protector of my virtue,” Leonardo said.

 

“What virtue?” A scathing look was directed his answer. He put his hands up. “Mi dispiace.” And before the dragon or Leonardo could intervene, Ezio leaned forward and quickly pressed a kiss against his lips. It was chaste – just a press of lips against lips – and he stepped out of Leonardo’s space quickly after. Leonardo’s eyes only grew a miniscule, but he raised his fingers to lightly touch his lips, gaze not leaving Ezio. Then his hand dropped and he turned a half way away from him.

 

“Perché tu sei molto dolce? We’ll never leave at this rate,” he muttered.

 

“Then let's go before I do something ill advised,” said Ezio. He stepped forward so he was close to Leonardo again. Only this time he did not try to kiss him. He simply took Leonardo’s hand and laced their fingers together. Joined as they then were, Ezio began to walk downstairs, tugging Leonardo along with him.

 

“You changed your mind quickly, I see,” Leonardo said.

 

“You changed it for me,” Ezio replied. He was still… apprehensive, but this moment had reminded him of why he had suggested it in the first place. Of why it was worth doing.

Anything that made Leonardo happy was worth doing.

 

Suddenly Leonarso stopped in his tracks. “Aspetta!” He said. “Your neck!”

 

Oh, right. The incredibly painful bite mark on his throat. It had been more of a thudding pain when he was unaware of it, but now it flamed back into full force. He didn't have to see it to imagine what it looked like – angry, the skin reddened.

Leonardo lightly pressed a finger to it and Ezio hissed as the pain flared.

 

“It will bruise,” Leonardo said. “I believe I have a cream that will help reduce the swelling. Wait here, please.”

 

Then he ran off downstairs and out of his sight and Ezio was left feeling cold. A small clack against wood turned his head to one of the corners where he could see the little dragon. It was staring right at Ezio, unblinking. It was mocking in its silence.

 

“I will kill you. Don’t think I won’t.”

 

The lizard only stuck its tongue out and licked its eyeball, which – gross.

 

"But not today." Vengeance is best when it's the least expected.

 

The stairs barely creaked below Leonardo’s feet as he quickly walked up again.

 

“I found it!” he said. He unscrewed the lid and put it down on the nearest surface, which turned out to be a frighteningly high pile of books. Ezio hid a wince as it swayed, but it ultimately did not fall.

 

“Bend your neck for me, tesoro,” Leonardo said. Ezio eyed the greenish cream in the jar warily. Leonardo huffed. “Don’t be a child.”

Ezio obediently bent his neck to the side. Leonardo dipped his fingers in the ointment and brushed it over the bite mark. It was cold against his skin, but the cold was eased by Leonardo standing so close. It was only for a moment, two, three. Then he stepped away again.

“There you are,” he said, and walked to that rickety tower and picked the lid up. At which point the whole shook and toppled over. The books landed on the floor with a loud bang, spread out like water spilled from a pot. Ezio held his breath. Calmly, with not a single part of his facial expression changed, Leonardo screwed the lid back on the jar.

“Come on, we’re late enough as it is.”

 

* * *

 

 

The sky was heavy with purple and bright red clouds when they stepped outside. The summer evening had not yet turned cold, but Ezio and Leonardo walked flushed against each other’s side nevertheless. Ezio remembered all too well the balcony he’d visited a couple of times before, and especially well the first time he happened upon it. But they would not enter that way, and the thought was both exciting and strange. Exciting because of the person at his side and because of the many different ways this evening could turn out and strange because he had never imagined stepping through the florist’s door like an expected guest. He never did that, anymore.

But so when Leonardo stopped in front of a door painted in red, the wall around it wreathed in clinging roses, Ezio almost didn’t stop. But somehow, looking at it, it felt right somehow.

“We’re here,” Leonardo said. The words seemed final.

“At last,” Ezio said.

Leonardo knocked on the door exactly three times. It took less than a minute for it to open. The woman behind the door was dressed in a simple, but elegant blue dress that flattered her tanned skin very well. Her black and grey streaked locks were pulled away from her face, but fell against her shoulders in simple curls. Her face was lined, but the lines accentuated her smile in the crinkles around her eyes and the curved lines on her cheeks when she turned her lips up. The wrinkles spoke of long, but happy life. She was not the most beautiful woman Ezio had ever seen, not even in her youth, but the smile she wore almost tricked him into believing so. 

 

“Leonardo!” She said, laughter in her voice. She embraced him immediately, then pulled back to kiss both his cheeks. 

 

“Bounasera, Isabella,” Leonardo said. Isabella turned her eyes to Ezio.

 

“Oh, is this that troublemaker of yours? Ezio?” she asked.

 

Leonardo laughed, the traitor. “The one and only. Isabella Parrino, Ezio Auditore da Firenze.”

 

Ezio made a formal bow. “Buonasera, signorina.”

 

Isabella was having none of that. Before he could react, she had embraced him as she had Leonardo. She was so short she had to tug his head down to properly kiss his cheeks.

 

“There’s no need for formality here, young man. I’m an old woman, I’ve got no time for nonsense.”

That managed to startle a laugh out of Ezio. She patted his cheek.

 

“There we are,” she said, pleased. “Now come in, both of you! Before the cold comes!”

 

She waltzed back inside, Leonardo at her heels. Ezio walked in last, pulling the door closed behind them.

 

“My Floriana is in the kitchen. I’ll join her now, so make yourself at home! Leonardo, get him to relax will you? Show him around, you know where everything is.” With that, she was off.

 

“What do you think?” Leonardo asked him.

 

“She’s… unexpected,” Ezio answered.

 

“What did you expect?”

 

“I don’t know.” A sudden thought nagged at him. “Didn’t you say her last name is Parrino?”

 

Leonardo nodded. “I did, why?”

 

“I thought that was the flo- Floriana’s name.”

 

“It is.”

 

“But they’re a couple? Not sisters?” He hoped. 

 

Leonardo chuckled. “It’s a wonderful story, but not mine to tell. Ask them at dinner. For now I’ll do as bid and show you around.” 

 

The house was all of three stories high, but also quite narrow. It was what Ezio figured a well-off middle class family home in Venezia looked like, just comfortable and decorated enough not to be expensive and gaudy. But there were many personal touches; flowers and other plants everywhere of course, but also hand made pottery, small figurines and other mementos on display. Leonardo explained that Isabella did a lot of pottery, and was in fact the one who had made the vases that had so unsettled Ezio not too long ago. It wasn’t so strange that she and Leonardo were such close friends after such a short period of time – they were both artistic spirits. 

 

On the third floor was where Ezio finally saw the balcony from the other side. The room where the door to it was was a type of studio, but for florists, with many plants and plant related equipment spread out over every available surface. They did not linger for long. Ezio was afraid that if he as much as breathed wrong in that room Floriana would find out.

 

At last Leonardo brought him to the small dining hall on the first floor, that had windows overlooking the canal.  The centerpiece was a handsome table with six chairs, three on either side. In the middle of the table stood an intricate flower arrangement, beautiful enough to put a lord’s gardener to shame. They were not there for long before Isabella appeared carrying plates with appetizers. 

 

“Can I-,” Ezio began to ask if she needed help, but she immediately shushed him.

 

“No nonsense! You are a guest, guests are  _ served. _ ”

 

“No nonsense,” Ezio smiled. “But help would save you time, which was the reason you said you wanted no nonsense.” Isabella raised her eyebrows and turned to Leonardo.

 

“Leonardo! I knew he was trouble, but couldn’t you have warned me that he was clever as well?”

 

“He is?” Leonardo asked, looking innocent. “He could have fooled me.”

“Thank you, love,” Ezio muttered. “What would I do without you.”

“Be dead within a fortnight,” came a voice from the same door Isabella had appeared from. Out came Floriana, carrying a pitcher of wine in one hand and a tray with glasses in the other. 

“...Floriana,” Ezio hesitated. “Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you somewhere you can’t run away,” she responded.

“Don’t challenge him,” Leonardo said.

“Children,” Isabella scolded. Floriana poured them all wine, and filled the glasses way over the line of how full a wine glass should be.

“Oh don’t worry, Bella, he can handle it,” Floriana said. She turned to Ezio with a hand holding a glass outstretched for him. There was a mischievous glint in her eye Ezio sometimes saw in himself. Ezio took the offered glass, only grinning as a response.

“See?” Floriana said to Isabella, who only sighed.

Leonardo out a hand on Isabella’s arm. “I understand,” he said.

 

“Thank you, Leonardo,” she said. Then she clapped her hands together. 

 

“Now, let’s all sit down, shall we? My poor knees have been standing for too long.”

 

So they did, Leonardo and Ezio on the side with their back to the canal, Floriana and Isabella on the side where they had the shortest distance to the kitchen (“In case the casserole catches fire, I trust no one but myself,” Floriana had announced). They made subsequent small talk, they all ate the appetizers – Leonardo and Ezio complimenting them profusely – and the minutes crept by.

 

Outside, the sky was beginning to darken further, the last of sun finally slipping beneath the horizon. Isabella had the foresight to light all the candles in the room before the last outside light disappeared. The yellow glow they cast over the room made it seem smaller, but homier. The cold of night had crept over Venezia, but in the Parrino’s house and most especially in their dining hall, it was kept at bay.

 

Finally Ezio had the courage to ask:

 

“Why are you both named Parrino?”

 

Isabella and Floriana shared a soft look, both of them smiling. Floriana gripped Isabella’s hand on the table, thumb stroking her pulse.

 

“We’re married,” Isabella said. Ezio’s mind short circuited.

 

“That’s impossible.”

 

In the corner of his eye, Leonardo wore a knowing smile.

 

“Not if you have determination, men’s clothing and a drunk priest,” Floriana said. 

 

“That sounds like quite the story,” Ezio said. “One I would love to hear.”

 

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Isabella said.

 

“We were young and in love. We refused to marry a strange man we could never love and live a lie, so we devised a small plan in secret,” Floriana began. 

 

“We both squirreled away some money, fashioned ourselves some men’s clothing and in the cover of night, we ran away,” Isabella continued.

 

“I was the one dressed as a man, since I had the figure for it,” Floriana said. “We only stopped once we were many towns away so our families couldn’t immediately find us.”

 

“Then it was the simple manner of finding a priest who could be tricked into wedding us. Luckily, the only one the small town’s church had was a drunkard.”

 

“So we asked him to wed us. Said our families were rivals and we had eloped.”

 

“He bought it. We paid him just enough to keep quiet in case someone asked around for us, held the wedding and here we are.”

 

Floriana kissed Isabella’s hand. “You looked so lovely in your dress that day.”

 

“No lovelier than you.”

 

Ezio still hadn’t quite managed for it to sink in yet. Beside him, Leonardo reached for his hand. They clasped their fingers instinctively. Their hands fitted so well together it was only natural. Like two pieces of a whole.

 

“That’s… amazing.” It was a wholly underwhelming comment on the spectacularity of it, but Ezio didn’t trust himself to say anything that would do it justice.

 

“Pshaw,” Isabella waved in a dismissive manner. “Anyone brave enough to crossdress could do it.”

 

Ezio glanced at Leonardo, just out of curiosity wondering what he would look like in a dress.

 

Leonardo saw his look and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about it.” Ezio glanced back to Isabella and Floriana. But they were only looking at each other. They were still holding hands, completely content. 

It struck Ezio then that they had been together for over twenty years. They ran away from their families just so that they could have each other and twenty years later, they still gazed into each other’s eyes like they were the only two people in the world. Being an assassin, he had never expected a long life. He did not expect he would get another twenty years. To live as those women had — the idea was foreign, frightening. But he was nevertheless tempted and he almost, almost hoped for something like that for himself. Turning back to Leonardo he saw that he, too, was looking at Floriana and Isabella. But flexing his fingers, Ezio realised that they were also still holding hands. Almost as if Leonardo could hear him think, he turned to look at him too. He smiled so gently then, so gently Ezio couldn’t fathom it.

 

“I know,” he said, and Ezio smiled back. He brought their hands to his mouth and kissed Leonardo’s, then just held it there, touching. Leonardo’s thumb brushed his cheek.

 

Ezio didn’t need to hope, then. He already knew.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops, i forgot to mention it was the last chapter, didn't i?  
> but seriously.... thank you so much to everyone who read this flaming piece of incoherent fluff and thank you a thousand times to everyone who commented! you guys are literally what kept this baby alive long after i ran out of motivation to continue. hopefully this won't be the last you see of me, and this won't be the last i see of you.  
> arrivederci!


End file.
